The Promise
by Erik'sTrueAngel
Summary: COMPLETE! A promise was made in the depths of the Opera l’Garnier years ago. Now it’s time for it to be fulfilled… [Full Summary inside.] RC and EC friendly. Leroux based. Warning: Darker version of Erik. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

Rated: R (M)

Genre: Horror/Suspense

Summary: A promise was made in the depths of the Opera l'Garnier years ago. Now it's time for it to be fulfilled… Erik's spirit still haunts the opera house waiting for Christine to return to him. Young Christine Dawson, an American singer armed with a voice of an angel and visions of the past, comes to the Garnier where the Phantom's restless spirit will do anything to gain what is his at any cost. RC and EC. Warning—Language and dark version of Erik. Leroux based.

Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership to the characters, though if there's a certain masked genius looking for a new owner don't need to look any further! And the use of Charles Gounod's _Faust _does not belong to me as well. The lyrics to "I Saw Him Once" do not belong to me but to that of _Les Miserables_ in this chapter.

A/N: At long last I'm posting my baby! I've been waiting for sometime to work on it and here it is. This is very different from my other stories, but EC fans don't worry! I have done this in a way to make both sides happy with plenty of delicious moments. And you should like the way I done the Raoul character. I never seen this done before and it was fun to do.

I would like to dedicate this is all my loyal readers and my new ones. It's you guys that make me write. Special thanks to my beta Megan for doing such a terrific job on this! Snaps for you girl! Also, I'm making Christine a brunette still because 1) I'm used to seeing her as one and 2) I'm a brunette. Enjoy and don't forget to review!

The Promise

By: Erik'sTrueAngel

**Prologue**

"Erik I have turned the scorpion!"

Time seemed to have stopped as her words repeated in his head. Never in his fifty odd years did Erik ever expect for a woman to consent to being his wife, but here was his angel. His Angel willingly accepted to be his bride. This had to be a dream. A cruel, yet a hopeful beautiful one he had many on occasion. But as he gazed upon the quivering singer, her mass of blonde curls disarrayed and her wide blue eyes filled with fear and an emotion Erik couldn't read, he knew this was not a dream.

Part of him was screaming at him that this was a rouse for him to save her lover. Another believed that she truly accepted him. Maybe not love him but in time she will. After all, that age long traditions of arranged marriages had turned to love eventually. This would be no exception for as far as Erik was concerned. In time she will love him the way he loved her. That's all he needed.

"Erik!"

In the distance, the voices of the foolish boy and the daroga were growing fainter. The water from the underground lake was rapidly rising in the torture room, cutting off their air supply and only the hoarse cries of Erik and Christine were heard.

Erik stood in shock and awe; deaf to all sounds but only that of his pure love's radiant voice echoing "I have turned the scorpion". He barely saw the girl coming towards him, pleading to him about something. Then her little hands were splayed across his chest, those crystal ocean blues looking deeply into his amber ones imploring him. What was it? Was she hungry? Or was she tired? She indeed had an eventful day.

As he slowly regained his senses, her shrill frightened voice reached his ears. "Erik, please release them! For me!"

Expressionless, Erik stared into her pallor countenance. She continued to beg with urgency each increasing second until it registered she wanted him to save the fools. Save them? He wanted to out right and laugh at such a demand! They were trespassers and deserved punishment. No person dared enter Erik's domain without his blessing. No. He will not save them. Let them drown. For what did Erik care? He had enough blood on his hands for ten lifetimes that two more wouldn't make a difference. Even though, one of them was a close acquaintance. Friend? Maybe not. But try as he might, the insufferable Persian still came to him despite his near meeting to those deemed paradise. But this was the last he disobeyed him. And now he shall learn that Erik will not let his conscience get the better of him and spare his pitiful life.

As her eyes persistently pleaded him with her silent wish, Erik felt his resolve slowly crumble. He never was the one to deny his precious angel anything, as much as this wish infuriated him. She only wanted her lover alive and what? If he did this would it stand to reason the boy might try and whisk her away from the horrible beast? No. She was _his. _The proof was seen by the turn of the scorpion and Erik would hold her to her promise. Only death now could save her from her fate not some childish Vicomte. He would make sure of it.

Without a word, Erik moved to the secret door that led to the torture room and opened it. The two men tumbled out, gasping for air and barely conscious. Erik bent over to look into the Persian's face just as the man passed out. Smirking, he glanced up to see his love tenderly embracing her former fiancé.

"Oh Raoul!" she cried thankfully, holding his flaxen head to her bosom, gently smoothing his hair.

Erik observed the loving scene as bitter rage and jealousy engulfed him. Why should he be surprised? Of course she would want to hold the handsome prince who risk his life! Why should she want to willingly hold the dragon that practically tore him away her?

He watched as the lad nuzzled her chest, softly calling her name. All of his sanity shattered.

Erik stormed over and yanked the boy up by the collar, ignoring his beloved's cry.

"She's my wife now!" Erik growled in the Vicomte's ear and began to drag him over to the settee. He threw him down without a second look and went to tend the Persian.

The daroga was beginning to come to just as Erik deposited him on the other settee adjacent to where Raoul was lying. Erik bent over him and sneered. "I see you're still alive. Though I should have left you there, but _my wife _insisted that I save your carcass and the boy's."

"Your wife?" whispered the Persian, bewildered and astounded. He glanced over to the singer who was carefully pressing a cool cloth to the Vicomte's forehead. Wearily shaking his head, he turned to stare into the crazed man's eyes. "Erik… let… the… girl… go."

Erik chuckled deep within his chest. "She chose to be my wife. She loves me for me, daroga. Do you truly think ill of me that I would go the lengths to force her to a life of happiness?"

Nadir took a few deep breaths. "Erik… my friend, this charade won't last long. Let the girl be with the young man. She cannot survive in your world of darkness like you can."

Erik smirked, revealing his discolored and rotten teeth. "Quit being such a hero dargoa. The position doesn't suit you at all."

He got up and to check on his soon-to-be wife and her patient. He looked distastefully at the boy and sighed. As much as he loathed his rival Erik knew if he ever hoped to achieve Christine's affections he couldn't have let the boy die. Then all of his dreams would be for nothing. Christine would never forgive him if the fop should die. He briefly wondered if he were in the boy's position would Christine cry over him? As much as his heart would like to wish it, Erik knew she might secretly rejoice with her lover. _Ah, yes my love! The monster is finally dead and now we can be married at last!_

Erik cringed at the thought but then thought back to her acceptance just moments ago. _The daroga is wrong! She does love me even if she hasn't admitted to herself yet. It won't be long until she realizes that she belongs to me and I to her. _Grinning smugly, he bent down next to her. Reaching out, he tentatively touched one of her loose curls before placing it behind her ear.

"My angel, it hurts me to see you so preoccupied with one guest, specifically a past lover. Be a dear and make us some tea. I'm afraid our wedding would have to be postponed until they are well."

The news that should have made her lighten up didn't. She looked almost… distraught. Hope filled his cold heart from seeing her reaction and he thought, _perhaps she does know where her heart belongs. Oh my savior… my Christine!_

Unless…

It was a ploy. Oh yes it had to be! The conniving wench most likely had some ingenious plot up her sleeves. _If she pretends to be sorrowful that our wedding has to be put off she might try and get me to feel sympathetic and let her go. I have figured her little plan out! Well, two can play against this. I won't let her go. Never. Or…_

"If it upsets you my dear, I could quickly procure a priest and bring him down here if you like. Don't worry about what your lover might think. This might bring some inspiration for him to know what love is truly is. Would that make you happy my sweet? Would you like to marry Erik now?"

The suggestion withdrew any color left on her face. "Y-you d-don't have to!" she stammered. "It would be improper. It's best to wait until they are well."

_I thought so. _Erik covered up his rejection with indifference. "Very well. If that's what you wish then I cannot object to my love's decision."

"T-thank you Erik," she spoke softly. "I knew you would understand."

"Of course." _No I don't._

"I'll get some tea prepared." She quietly excused herself to the kitchen.

Erik watched his future bride leave and looked back to her fallen hero. The boy's breathing was slow and even, but he would live. _And no doubt fight once more for his fair lady_, Erik thought grimly. _Fool. Idiotic childish snob. He has the whole world at his hands with his perfect looks and can have any woman he wants in his bed. Yet he wants my Christine. **Mine**! _

He shifted in his sleep; his angel's name escaping his shapely pink lips. Erik stiffened with anger. It would be too easy. All he had to do was snap that neck of his and there will be no more obstacles standing in his way. Yes. No one would have to know. The Persian was out of it and Christine wasn't nearby. It would be an accident of course. The heat from the torture room and the close drowning experience would certainly push the boy over the edge. He couldn't stand it. He wasn't strong enough to handle the exertion. It was too perfect! Just as Erik's hand started to wind around his throat, Christine's face into mind. If his ultimatum earlier hadn't put much shock into her weak mind, then finding her former love's corpse so soon would do it.

Cursing under his breath, Erik pulled back and stared at the peaceful countenance. _Go ahead and sleep boy_, he thought. _But you will meet your Maker if you ever dare cross my path again. _

At the precise moment, Christine returned with a hotly brew of Russian tea for Erik. He took a sip and fought the urge to spit it up. Smiling cheekily, he drained the rest of the cup to appease her. _In time she will get it right_, he told himself. _And then all of this would be nothing but an unfortunate memory._

A couple of days passed when Nadir awoke. His strength was slowly returning to him, which he figured he had to give thanks to Erik's medical skills. He sat up on some cushions to listen to the girl hum a lullaby to the young Vicomte. From what the Persian could see, the lad still was recovering from the aftershocks of being trapped in Erik's torture chamber. He had to give him credit though. The dark-skinned man didn't think the Vicomte would stand up to Erik's tricks.

Alas, the girl's presence was having an affect over Erik. It was a side Nadir would have never believed to exist in the hard-hearted man. A sense of compassion was taking root even if his long time friend refused of such a notion.

As much as Nadir would have liked, if the circumstances were different, he would have accepted Erik's love for the young singer. But this love… this obsession was clearly getting out of hand that even the former great magician in the Shah's court couldn't control. Sadly, he knew Erik was only going to end up hurting himself rather than help him. The girl was too kind and beautiful. An innocent stuck in the clutches of a raving man who yearns for some normality and love denied his whole existence. It could never be.

Silently, Nadir observed the changes his friend was undergoing ever since he and his companion were saved. Before Erik was rigid and set on having his living bride that nothing could change his mind. Now… now it seemed to be the opposite.

Christine tenderly took care of him and her lover with a bright smile on her face despite the conditions. Her zeal was too contagious as it seemed for Nadir and he found himself falling in her charms. He could see why Erik was so smitten by her angelic beauty and the naivety that all children possess. But by no means was he going to drag her off to some dark dungeon and force for her hand in marriage.

He tried reasoning with Erik but the man refused to listen to logic. He cursed and threatened him before fleeing to his music room, pounding away on the organ with intensity that rattled the daroga's ears. But now Erik seemed to be more pliant to listen to what he had to say. It was unreal and unlike the Phantom.

The harshness of his face faded away and he took on an almost homely and tranquil state of mind.

During one of their conversations, they could hear the faint whispers of Raoul and Christine discussing some childhood memory. Nadir was positive Erik would be furious and order the girl to do something else. But he didn't.

Instead, he gazed at him with a faraway look. "You know daroga. I've been thinking this past few days and I came to a realization, a revelation if you will."

The Persian nodded for him to continue. "As much as this hurts me but I think it would do the child best if she was the Vicomte's wife. He could give her much more than I could. All I have is my music, my darkness, and my cursed ugliness. While he has youth, beauty, and the money to buy whatever her little sweet heart desire. I cannot punish her in this world of hate and night. She needs the light and the company of others. She is my Persephone to my Hades, though this time I will restore her to where she rightfully belongs without asking for anything in return."

"I'm pleased with you Erik," Nadir said. "Truly I am. I know this will hurt but it's for the best. For her and for you."

"Yes." Then after that it wasn't discussed again.

xxXXxx

Christine was lying on her silken sheets, tuck asleep, as Erik watched her. She was so beautiful and untouched by his crazed wishes that Erik cursed himself for destroying her innocence. He never meant for this to go as far as it did, but the green-eyed monster brought the worst of him he never knew existed. It drove him to kidnap her and to murder for her. The boy's brother was lying beneath the waters and no one knew but him. Erik regretted the rash decision to dispose of the Comte, but at the time he wasn't thinking straight through. But it was done and there was nothing more he could do.

Erik slowly slipped out of the shadows, carefully heading towards the sleeping beauty. His golden ring glowed brightly against her pale hand and for a second he believed she was his, no regrets or fears.

He knew the daroga was right. He always was, he bitterly admitted. But Erik held onto to the belief that the Persian was wrong for once. He wanted to believe he could be loved for himself that his face wouldn't matter. But as Fate had it the unfair Muse decided his life would have no companion no lover. Just poor old Erik rotting away in the cellars of the Opera Garnier.

_Love is a wicked and cruel game_, he mused. _It can give one hope that the world is good, but the truth can never be hidden. Love is a curse for fools like me._

Being careful not to disturb her, Erik sat beside her, taking in the sight she presented. He only wished he would be the one lying next to her, holding her, loving her. Then have the same wondrous feelings be repeated the next morning. Most took their lovers for granted and it sickened Erik. Oh for what he would give to spend the day relishing in her love and adoration. Not as some heavenly being but as Erik, the man who loves her the way a man thirsts in the hot desert. Once he tastes the sweet ambrosia he could never have enough, not as long as he lives.

Surely once she is with the boy she would be taken for granted. If Erik could have her he would spend the rest of his worthless life worshipping every step she takes, every sigh every smile every tear. And it still wouldn't be enough for him.

Lowering his eyes, he gently stroked her soft skin, murmuring her name. "Christine…"

Her eyelids fluttered and Erik froze, afraid of her reaction if she should wake. With the softest of sighs, she smiled in her state of unconsciousness, and turned her face slightly away from his hungry stare.

_Tomorrow it will be done_, he thought firmly. _After that I would be nothing more than a memory of the poor man who loved her like no other._

xxXXxx

The next morning, Christine prepared some herbal tea for Raoul and the Persian. She was in high spirits this day than she had ever felt. Since the dreadful choice she had to make days ago, Christine never knew she could feel this type of joy ever again.

For the most part, she and Erik rarely spoke to each other unless they were addressing the patients or were offering something. It gave her plenty of time to think and she did more than she ever did in her life. Anything that happened to her was always decided by another and no matter what it was she complied eagerly without question. Now with Erik and Raoul both fighting for her attention, she didn't know what to do. It was the first time _she _had to make the decision.

If it had been only one of them it wouldn't matter, but she had two suitors that wanted her for themselves. Yes, Erik could be horrifying and with his deformity it only fused his anger. But he could be sweet and he had always been a gentleman whenever she was near. Yet she allowed her old childhood friend to lead her on that Erik was a madman who must be stopped. A murderer, a manipulative evil man. She wasn't proud of what Erik had done for her it only frightened her.

She was new to love and didn't understand the lengths some would go. She loved Raoul she knew that, but Erik?

She was so mixed up about her feelings for the Phantom. There were times when she felt she loved him and there were times she felt she hated him. He was sinful and not the man a good girl like her should be around. But she always found herself caught up in his web of lies and promises and returning to him. When she confessed to Raoul about everything he accused her of being in love with the monster. She laughed at him.

Now, she wondered if perhaps Raoul was correct. Was she in love with Erik? But love can be so complicated and Erik was a very complex man. She hardly knew him and what she knew either filled her with dread and terror or pity. He was a sad man she wouldn't deny it and it saddened her that someone with such talent had to be locked away because of his face. It didn't seem fair to the simple-minded golden hair beauty. But looking back on his past crimes and rash behavior it was understandable and it made her shudder.

He forced her to decide between life and death, the wedding or requiem mass. All of her pity and adoration for the man vanished as he placed the burden on top of her shoulders. Should she wed this creature? What good could come from it? Would she ever see Raoul again? The latter most likely would never happen and at the time her heart belonged to the young Vicomte. She couldn't give up on Raoul. What would he think of her?

It wasn't until she heard his voice and the Persian's through the walls that she thought she was safe and the decision no longer rested on her. But it didn't come to that. Their survival depended on her to distract Erik so she could help them. She hated being deceitful but all she wanted was to be held in Raoul's arms, telling her everything would be all right and that all was safe. She wanted his love, his reassurance that he would always be there for her.

She came to the decision that saving his life would come to only if she consented to be Erik's wife and in that split second her "yes" was for Raoul. Though now she wasn't sure and once more confused than ever at what her heart wanted.

Shaking her head, she set the tray on the table and excused herself. She was walking past Erik's music room when she heard his melodic voice calling for her.

Christine floated into the abyss of where his power ruled above all mortals. There sat Erik, hunched over the majestic organ. Her timid footsteps alerted him of her presence and he turned to acknowledge her.

"Christine," his voice shook. It appeared he was crying before she came.

Worried, she ran to his side, falling at his feet. Her tiny head rested on his knee and she looked up into his golden eyes. "Erik?"

"Christine," he said once more, his hand coming up to pat her light curls. "My angel…"

"Erik what is it?" His demeanor was beginning to frighten her as he constantly whispered her name in an undying prayer. _Please don't let it be anything serious_, she thought self-consciously before blushing.

His ministrations ceased as he placed his hand back in his lap. His lips pressed firmly and then faintly in a tone barely above a whisper, he said, "You may leave with your lover."

She blinked. "P-pardon?" Did he say what she thought he said?

Becoming irritated, he glared down at her. "Are you deaf child? I said you may go with your Vicomte!"

Christine thought the news would flood her with joy, but instead she found herself perplexed and distressed. "W-why?" she asked after silence washed over them.

Sighing, Erik stood up and walked away, giving them some space. His back was to her and she watched as his shoulders quivered. "I release you," Erik stated, his tone painful and anguished. "He should be strong enough to return and then you can be wed."

"No!" Christine ran over, forcing him to face her. "Erik, I chose you!"

His malformed lips shook as tears threatened to spill over. "No you do not know what you wish child. Your Vicomte can provide you with a life that Erik cannot. You deserve to be with him and give him children with flawless faces, instead of carrying my hideous burden."

"Erik this is nonsense!" Christine reprimanded him. "I-I…"

"Christine I'm giving you a chance at happiness. Go and live your life but don't forget your poor Erik!"

She was torn. She wanted to be with both men, but having both wouldn't be the answer. One will always ask more of her and she wasn't sure if she could fulfill it. But now she seemed certain of her feelings, but Raoul's sweet face popped up in her head and she remembered his promises to her and hers to him. She loved her old friend dearly that was no question, but she did pledge her love to him when she accepted his proposal. It was a promise she couldn't back from no matter how much it would hurt her or Erik. But… she could make another.

Christine removed the golden band and held it out for him to take.

_This is it_, Erik came to realize as he accepted the small ring in his large palm, _the point of no return._

He stared at the trinket, fighting back the tears. He would not cry in front of her. She made her decision long ago when she betrayed him to the boy and now he was returning the favor. His angel would be better off with her handsome prince and they will live happily ever after. That's what he could give her no matter how much it broke his heart. _At least I'm giving her the chance never to see my cursed face ever again._

He noticed she hadn't left yet and wondered what pain would await him now. Couldn't she accept what he was offering to her? Did she have to stay and watch him wallow in his self-pity?

"Erik… look at me," she softly commanded.

He lifted his head just a tad so he look into her cerulean eyes. God, she was beautiful. Her lovely porcelain face, those innocent eyes, and silky curls would be forever embedded in his memory. The Vicomte was going to be lucky to wake up next to this angel every morning.

"I-I want you to know I'll do this because I love Raoul," Christine started.

Erik averted his eyes away. No! He couldn't listen to this…

Her delicate hand gently grasped his chin and pulled him back to her. "But… but I—" she paused and took a deep breath. "I love you and I wish I could stay."

Erik was taken aback. "Y-you love me?"

She closed her eyes and when they opened, a light mist took over. "Yes but I promised Raoul… I can't turn him down. I-I'm sorry Erik, but I gave him my word. But I can give you mine."

She nodded to the ring that was in his hand. "I gave you the ring back as proof to my physical promise that I will come back to you. Keep it Erik and then we'll be reunited. And that I promise you my Angel."

Erik seemed skeptical. "But what of your _boy_?" he spat.

Christine lowered her eyes and sighed. "I-I'll tell Raoul where my heart truly lies. But not now. It will crush his spirits and I want to tell him alone." She looked up then as her tears were silently coursing down. She peeled off his mask, leaned forward, so their foreheads touched as her tears mingled with his. "My tears and heart are yours my love. Remember that Erik. I shall return to you. Do not forget this my beloved."

_Do not forget this my beloved._

And he didn't.

xxXXxx

**Present Time**

"Monsieur I implore you. Is it really necessary to hire some girl to replace Signora Giovanni?"

"Relax M. Roberts. Trust me, she'll do the part of Marguerite justice."

The older gentleman Roberts wearily collapsed into the chair, sighing exasperated at his employer. "But an American sir?"

The owner smirked. "So? She's still a singer and a terrific one at that. Just listen to the recording I brought back with me."

"I don't care! How do you know she can do opera? From what you told me she's done nothing but musicals! It's a completely different genre from what we do. And what of her voice range?"

"I understand Roberts," placated the owner. "Looking at her background she can do it. Her mother was an opera singer at the Metropolitan Theatre and she grew up in the chorus until her father moved her out. I heard her in New York and she's the fresh voice this theatre needs. I already talked to her agent and she's flying out here within the next couple of weeks—"

"You hired her on the spot? M. do you know what type of risk that might cost us? She's an unknown name for God's sake!"

"I assure you she's worth it. Now I have a copy from her latest performance in _Les Miserables_ as Cosette—"

Within seconds the small office was filled with a sweet, pure voice singing of love.

_"I saw him once_

_Then he was gone_

_We were like dreamers at night_

_Two phantoms in the shadows of the moon _

_Can people really fall in love so soon?"_

When it was finished, the owner turned it off and faced the bedazzled Roberts. "Well?"

He cleared his throat. "I have to meet her of course, but she sounds like she has the potential."

"She does. Have I ever stir you wrong?"

"No. And her name?"

"Christine Dawson."

Unbeknownst to the two gentlemen, there was another being present during the meeting, one who couldn't be seen. And after listening to the song and name he knew this was she.

_Soon… soon and then you'll belong to me and you'll never ever leave me again._

TBC…


	2. Chp 1: The Arrival

A/N: The beginning is going to start off kind of slow, but the juicy parts would come soon enough depending on you guys. So please if you're reading this could you leave a comment. It can be short, I don't care, but I would truly appreciate the feedback. Thanks again to my lovely beta Megan. Read and review please!

**Chapter 1- The Arrival **

"Shit, shit! I'm late," muttered Meg Garrison. The twenty-seven-year-old blonde hopped into her silver Megane and sped off towards the Charles de Gaulle airport.

She brushed back her bangs and checked her make-up once more in the rearview mirror before returning her eyes back to the road. "The messenger and deliverer lives again," she said aloud, rolling her eyes.

Meg was on her way to pick up the American—Christine Dawson. Normally one of the interns will do this kind of chore, but Dawson was also bunking with Meg during her stay as _Faust _runs through. She wasn't at all thrilled with the sudden arrangement and already began to loathe the girl. _I hope she doesn't expect me to baby-sit her_, she thought bitterly and if she did, then Dawson would find herself on the next plane back to New York.

Meg found out about her new roommate not from her mother (who did the arranging), but from one of the dancers Jamie. How she knew before Meg, she didn't know but was glad that someone told her.

_Meg was in the costume room having her costume for Sibel fitted when little Jamie came flying in._

_"Meg! I heard the owner found a replacement for Maria!"_

"_I know."_

"_You do? How?" the girl demanded. If there was one thing about Jamie it was gossip and if anyone else knew the news before her, well, she would like to think all Hell would break loose._

_Meg winked. "My mother. Who else?"_

"_Oh. Then you probably know about her living with you."_

_Meg's jaw dropped ungracefully. "WHAT!"_

"_You didn't know?" Jamie replied, grinning at her luck with something Meg didn't know. "Madame Garrison was the one who volunteered you to house Christine Dawson. I can't believe she didn't tell you."_

"_That makes both of us," Meg grumbled unhappily. It wasn't that she wanted a roommate; in fact, she was just starting to get use living alone once her cousin left for London. But it was so like her mother to plan something and leave her in the dark until the last minute._

"_And she wants you to pick her up from Charles de Gaulle this Friday at one-thirty."_

"_WHAT!"_

"_Relax Meg! It's not that bad. At least you have some free time instead of practicing your lines or steps," Jamie pointed out._

"_I suppose." Meg sighed. "I hope she's good. I don't think I can stand another Maria."_

_Jamie laughed. "I don't think anyone can. I wonder where they picked this one from?"_

_Meg smirked. _Aha! Something she doesn't know. Oh this will be good_, she thought devilishly. "Well, remember the business trip the owner went on to New York? I heard he went to some musical and heard her. She was signed up right there immediately."_

_It was Jamie's turn for her jaw to drop. "Really? Then she must be terribly good for that to happen!" she exclaimed excitingly. "After all she has Maria's shoes to fill. And I mean big shoes."_

"_I think anyone who can sing could." The girls laughed at their little joke before becoming serious. _

"_Meg, do you know what happened to her?"_

"_No." And it was the truth. Her mother wouldn't speak of it no matter how hard Meg pressed. She was good at keeping secrets, a trait that extremely annoyed Meg as much as her lack of news reporting._

"_Stacey says it was the Ghost!"_

_Meg rolled her eyes. Unlike most of the performers and workers, Meg never believed in the legend of the Phantom of the Opera. Growing up she did but when you reached a certain age in your life, all your childish fears and beliefs vanishes into thin air. And that's what happened to Meg. She outgrew the Phantom, yet Jamie and the others especially Maria were firm believers._

"_So what did your 'Ghost' do?"_

_All the color on Jamie's face drained leaving her ghastly pale. "Meg if he should hear you…"_

"_It," Meg corrected. "Besides, Jamie I've been saying it doesn't exist for years and you don't see me disappearing."_

"_Whatever. Stacey says that the first time Maria came in contact with the Ghost was a few months ago and even then she thought it was a practical joke done by us or Joseph Brolin."_

"_Joseph Brolin wouldn't waste his time scaring Maria. He was probably out buying drugs or drinking, his favorite pastimes," she retorted._

"_Anyways, after the casting was set Maria went to her dressing room and found Carlotta, you know her bird—"_

"_Oh yes I do." Carlotta was the perfect name for Maria's parrot. She never shuts up._

"_Someone broke Carlotta's little neck and twisted her head around!" Jamie gasped. "Imagine finding your pet like that! I thought of _The Godfather _right away. And it didn't stop there. A few times Maria's belongings would go missing and turn up somewhere else, but it never stopped her. The night she left, something horrible happened. While she was sleeping at her apartment a pair of cold hands wrapped around her throat cutting off her air tube! Maria woke up right away but there was no one there! The next morning she found these purplish bruises on her throat!"_

"_Jamie…"_

"_Meg I'm dead serious! Maria almost died! Someone was trying to strangle her but she didn't see anyone. And the markings! It was why she wore those scarves all the time. It was the Phantom!"_

"_You ever thought that maybe Maria imagined it? Do you know how crazy that sounds?"_

"_To anyone, yes! But it was him! He wanted Maria out of the Garnier. And he almost killed her!"_

"_Jamie, honey, ghosts don't exist and therefore can't kill the living. Stacey might be pulling your chain…"_

"_No! It's true Meg Garrison! And one day you will upset him and he'll come after you!" warned the ballet rat._

_Meg snorted with laughter furthering infuriating little Jamie. She glared daggers at her and was about to tell her more when a cold draft settled in the room. It sent chills down the girls' spines and they looked around for what caused the sudden drop in temperature. A low, maniacal laugh echoed through the walls and ceiling as both quickly rushed out with frightened faces._

It still gave Meg goose bumps at the thought of what happened that Tuesday. She told herself it was some intern trying to be cute and it somewhat put her at eased. _Ghosts. Such nonsense._

But it didn't stop the nervous chuckle that arose. Her mother, Adele Garrison, always told her to be on guard in her surroundings and be careful what she says in the corridors. The menacing tone Adele used often terrified Meg as a child and she would always made sure she was obeying her mother.

Meg checked the time. One thirty-two. So she was a little late. The flight probably didn't come in on time anyways and Christine Dawson might still be in the air. She leaned back in her seat and started humming. No song in particular.

Dawson was aware of the arrangement but it wasn't Meg who informed her. That was Adele's doing as always. She didn't know anything about her except her background in musicals.

Meg pulled into the parking lot and head off running towards Gate 21 flight 421. After getting lost a few times, she finally was able to find it. Glancing around, Meg couldn't find any candidate that might match Dawson. Sighing, she dug through her purse looking for the sign Adele made her make. "Sometimes she still thinks I'm a child," Meg mumbled under her breath, taking hold of the little white poster board and held it out.

Some people like to get creative when it comes to welcoming someone, but Meg didn't bother. It was white with **Christine Dawson **written in black marker. She scanned the mass of people coming out, calling out the said name. A few looked in her direction but weren't her.

She held the sign up higher in case she was short. A few minutes passed until a soft-spoken voice called out, "I'm Christine Dawson."

Meg lowered the sign to see a young woman around her early twenties standing in front of her. She was pleasant looking with soft raven curls tied up in a neat ponytail, a few strands framing her petite porcelain face and her friendly hazel eyes gazing at Meg. She was a little shorter than Meg around 5'2" she estimated from the looks. The girl gave her a bright smile and held out her hand.

"I take it you must be my roommate Meg Garrison."

xxXXxx

Christine wasn't sure what to expect when she arrived in Paris. She couldn't get over the shock that she was hired to sing at none other than the Garnier! When her agent, Doris Williams, told her the owner of the theatre personally asked if she would come to play Marguerite in the upcoming production of _Faust_, she couldn't say no!

All her life she wanted to sing opera. It was natural since her mother was the Metropolitan's star and her father was the leading violinist in the orchestra. She grew up surrounded by the classics and started off in the chorus. She loved singing by her mother and one day aspired to follow in her footsteps.

But all those hopes and dreams came to an end when at the age of eleven, her mother died of a brain hemorrhage. It was very sudden without any warnings. Her death devastated Christine and her father, Charles. After the funeral, the Dawsons moved to Detroit to San Francisco and then back to New York. Her return back to her home city at fifteen was to live with an old friend of her mother's Valerie Harper after Charles died of a heart attack.

She hated to admit it, but she knew his death would come eventually. Charles and Matilda Dawson were very much in love and her mother's death was extremely hard for him. She watched her father fade away each day and he never picked up his violin anymore. There were moments when the old Charles would return and they would have fun, but for the most part he kept to himself until he died of a broken heart. Christine was lost when her father died and vowed never to sing again. She couldn't handle the old memories it brought of the better days when both were alive and well.

Ms. Harper, or Mama Val she preferred (she was bit of a kook but sweet), took in Christine. She remembered Mama Val well from her childhood and did her best to ensure Christine's happiness. She wasn't just a guardian to the girl, but a dear friend who helped her through the tough times whenever she needed it. She didn't like her giving up singing, but she didn't pressure her. It was Christine's decision to make, though Mama Val hoped the child would reconsider. If not for herself than for her parents' memory.

At eighteen, she attended Juilliard to study ballet. She made a mistake (no regrets now) by singing to herself and after some encouragement from teachers and friends; she took up singing once more. Christine especially had to give her thanks to her best friend, Heather Kane. If it hadn't been for her constant nagging, Christine wouldn't be in this position.

She took up singing part-time at the _Swing 44_, a dance club and restaurant where she met Doris. After graduating, Christine went on to work as understudy for the show _Momma Mia! _and later was granted the lead as Sarah Brown in _Guys and Dolls_. Recently she was playing Cosette in _Les Miserables _for the past couple of seasons until this job offer popped up.

Christine always wanted to travel to Paris and this was the perfect opportunity! Though, when Doris informed her of this, she wasn't just excited but also had this feeling she couldn't describe. It was like… part of her yearned to go to the city, almost a thrill after returning home from a long trip. But she shrugged it off as the preparations were being made.

Christine corresponded with the head ballet mistress, Adele Garrison, about what to expect and her living arrangements. She was informed she would stay with Adele's daughter for the time being. Christine didn't want to intrude on such short notice, but Adele (she preferred Christine calling her by first name) claimed it was no intrusion and that Meg would be delighted. So it was set.

When Doris told her of the news, she never met the owner. Doris assured her he was charming and that he knew the best when he sees it. The thought flattered Christine and before she knew it she was flying over the Atlantic. Looking out below, the city was breathtaking and Christine couldn't wait to explore her adopted new home. During the trip, she wondered what Meg was like and her mother and the owner. Would she like her boss? Would she enjoy working here? Would she make some friends? These were some of the thoughts that were racing through her mind as the plane touched down.

One of her worries was whether or not Meg was waiting. Adele didn't give her much of a description for her to go by, just that she was a few years older with shoulder-length blonde with honey-brown highlights. To Christine that could mean anything, but Adele told her that Meg would find her.

When she disembarked, she checked to make sure her backpack was secured and then pushed her way through to look for her pickup. She peered through the crowds, looking for a blonde with highlights.

Christine was about to give up (as she saw many possibilities and none of them were Meg) until she heard her name being shouted out.

People were shoving her and she tried to go in the direction of her name, but was having no luck in tracking it. Thank God she happened to see a sign being hoisted up with her name in dark print.

Exhaling the air she was holding, Christine headed towards it to find a woman with the little description Adele told her. She was pretty; Christine noted when she said it was she. Meg was about a few inches taller than her and built with a small figure. Adele said once that her daughter been dancing ballet her whole life and it was evident. Her arms were slender, long, and muscular as dancers are and she was thin, not anorexic but good for her stature. Her blonde and brown mix tresses were slightly wavy, framing her oval-shaped face and big ocean blue eyes.

Christine held out her hand and after a brief second, Meg shook it. She smiled widely at her. "_Oui_, I'm Megara Garrison, well Meg if you like. Welcome to France!"

"I'm really thrilled to be here. I can't believe I'm in Paris."

"I hope you like it here. Let's get your stuff and drop them at my place before heading to the opera house. Then later I'll take you around. I'm sure you would love walking down the Champs-Elysees." _She doesn't seem to be that bad. Maybe I was wrong to judge her so quick_, Meg thought.

Christine grinned happily and nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."

xxXXxx

The ride to Meg's apartment was pleasant for both girls. They had plenty to talk about, mostly about their careers and the Garnier.

"You have to admit everyone's surprise when the owner did what he did. Do you know how hard it is to find someone to replace a name big as Maria Giovanni?" Meg laughed.

"I guess so. I was completely stunned to be asked to come here in her place. I follow opera and I never heard her sing before. Supposedly, she's a big shot in Europe huh?"

"You have no idea. Though consider yourself lucky. She has a nice voice, but it's nothing to make a big deal about. At times she sounded like she was shrieking instead of singing. And she was such a joy to work with," Meg muttered. "Constant complaining, bitchy attitude, queen of the universe, you know the usual Prima Donna rants."

"Oh yeah she sounds great," Christine chuckled. "So why did she leave then?"

Meg grew silent. Licking her lips, she smiled timidly. "She was always making threats in leaving if something wasn't done. Like a bigger room, more pay, etc. It could have been the last straw, probably an argument over her contract or something. Who knows?"

"Oh. Then wouldn't the understudy take over?"

The girl let out a sound between a nervous laugh and a sigh. Christine couldn't decide which.

"She would have, but Cat left with Maria. They were cousins, close family."

"I see." Christine didn't press it further. It was apparent this was one topic Meg did not wish to discuss.

After a few moments, Meg pulled up and stopped. "We're here. Home sweet home."

Meg helped Christine with her luggage and together they shuffled into the elevator. Getting off, the blonde had to introduce Christine to some of her neighbors before going to her place, 313.

"My mother says the only way to counteract bad luck is to use bad luck," Meg explained. "To me, it's just the number thirteen. Nothing special."

"I take it then she's superstitious," commented the brunette.

Meg rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. Oh and by the way, so are the rest of the cast and crew. You'll get use to it quick. But if you pretend to show an interest they'll love you forever."

"Gotcha."

Meg grinned and opened the door. "Come and enter my humble abode." Christine followed her in and gaped in awe.

The apartment was quaint, but stylish. Stepping inside was the living room/den and all the rooms (bathroom and two bedrooms) were on the right. A coffee brown couch faced the left wall with an oval-shaped glass table held up by black legs curving upwards. Up against the cream-colored walls and maple wood border was a maple entertainment center with a 32" TV inside. A rack was placed next to it filled with an assortment of DVDs. The carpet was beige and soft underneath Christine's shoes and different posters of movies and musicals were hanging up all over. Straight ahead were a couple of tan recliners with a brass lamp on top of a wooden nightstand. Meg had a couple of bookshelves containing some books, but it was mostly used to place flower pots and little figurines of dancers for decorations.

A cutout wall that looked through separated the kitchen from the living room. From what Christine could see, the walls were painted a light peach color with a fold up card table to eat from.

Meg went over to the far room, gesturing to it. "That's your room and the bathroom is in between us. Kitchen's there though you're not going to find much. I didn't go shopping yesterday like I was supposed to. And here," she paused until she was standing by the coffee table with her arms stretched out. "This is where you have access to hot actors galore. I hope you like Johnny Depp and Gerard Butler. They're my favorite homeboys."

"Both are my favorites too." Christine looked around and grinned. She was definitely going to love it here. She could already tell.

"Great. If you want you can start unpacking before we head over to the slave gallery."

Christine shook her head, chuckling. "All right. I'm looking forward to seeing the Garnier. I've only saw it in pictures."

"Well, I'm not much into the whole architecture biz but it is one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen. I practically grew up there."

"Wow."

Meg shrugged. "Yeah, well, not many people can appreciate the simple things these days. It's historical but amazing. Trust me, after seeing it you will have a hard time comparing it to anything else. While you get settle in I'm going to call my mother. I promised her I would call once you got here."

"Okay." Christine lugged her suitcases into the room Meg directed her to.

It wasn't super big but enough room for her. The walls were a pale baby blue with matching carpet. In the middle was her bed with a transition of blues, starting with a deep hue to a lighter color. Three pillows were propped up against the headboard with a sketch of an Angel above. On the bed's left side was white and brown wood nightstand with a white lamp. The room's left side was a small window with blue drapes and a white wood dresser pressed against the corner of the bed's right side. By the door was a mirrored closet.

Christine took the largest suitcase and lay on the bed. Taking out her clothes, she danced around while singing her favorite Kelly Clarkson song, "Behind These Hazel Eyes". She knew she would be doing some shopping for her other needs, but for now the things she packed would do for the time being. She tossed in her socks in one of the drawers, while catching a glimpse of outside. She peered out and right away loved the view she got.

On the streets were a bunch of little shops and a café at the corner, but from staring out in a distance she could make out what had to be the Opera l'Garnier. Christine estimated about a fifteen to twenty minute drive, give or take a few depending on traffic. She had to give Meg a lot of credit. Her residence was completely different from the apartment Christine had back home. The only view she got in the morning was her neighbor from across big hairy belly when he wakes. Not something you want to see first thing in the morning.

She went back to her unpacking and went through two of her four luggage pieces until Meg came knocking in.

"I just got done talking to my mother. She says for us to go over now."

"I'm practically done so I'll do the rest later then. I can't wait to see the opera house!" Christine squealed like a schoolgirl.

Meg laughed. "Well, I won't keep you in suspense any longer."

xxXXxx

The drive took a bit longer than it was expected due to the wondrous rush hour. Meg cursed under her breath as another pedestrian bolted out in front of her.

"You got to love Parisian traffic and people," she drawled. "At least you're getting a look at life in the city."

Christine nodded. "You think this is bad you need to spend a day in New York. But from experience, it's not as bad as it there."

"I've been wanting to go there. Think about it, Fifth Avenue and Macy's. A girl can lose a lot of money there."

Christine laughed. "True."

"So do you think you can pull this off? I mean playing Marguerite in French?"

"Of course. My mother did _Faust _long ago and I know I can handle this. That's how I first was exposed to the language. That and I took it in high school. I remember when my mom had a hard time pronouncing some of the words and knowing what they meant. I was seven at the time and I just looked through the lines and started translating them without any trouble."

"Really?" Meg asked, astounded.

"Yeah. She asked me how did I know and the funny thing was… I just did. The same when the words were repeated back to me aloud. I knew what was being said without knowing beforehand. You can imagine how I did in class."

Meg whistled low. "That's something all right. Did you have any relatives from here then?"

Christine shook her head. "Nope. I had some family from England and Italy. But not from France."

"Oh. Well, just to let you know Monsieur Roberts is going to work on your voice. He probably will be strict with you."

"No problem. When I'm dedicated I'm dedicated to my work. I shouldn't disappoint anyone, if that's the case."

"I doubt it. But that kind of perseverance is going make you come on top. Don't forget that. Hey, we're here."

Christine looked out the window and gasped. The Garnier stood out proudly as cars came flying by. The pictures she seen couldn't have done it justice in person. The sunlight hit the golden statues at the right angle, illuminating the beauty of the building. She couldn't wait to get inside to see the interior.

_Home sweet home is right_, she thought. Little did she know what waited for her beyond the doors.

TBC…

Christine's in Paris finally. I just also want to say I never been to Paris or the Opera Garnier so basically I'm going by from what I seen in pictures and stuff. So don't sue me. Now hit that button and review!


	3. Chp 2: First Impressions

A/N: I'm sorry to say this but I'm afraid updates won't be once a week like I've been doing this summer. School starts Wednesday and my schedule is very hard so updates won't be so frequent. But I'll try to do as much as I can! Sorry but school has to come first before Erik. :cries: I know. I'm sorry to you too Erik! Thank you my reviewers and my beta Megan! Erik has a little debut in this and yes there is a Raoul. He shows up in this one as well!

**Chapter 2- First Impressions**

Stepping inside the Garnier was like walking into a dream. Beautiful couldn't begin to describe what Christine saw as she stood in the grand entrance. The floor was a richly designed marble that led up to the elaborate staircase with golden statues on the posts. Lights were all around showing the expanse room and the intricate architecture.

Christine's jaw dropped as she stared up at the seemingly miles long ceiling. It was… amazing. Simply amazing. And somehow she felt right at home.

Meg tugged on her arm. "This way. I guess I should warn you there's a chance you might not meet the owner."

"How come?" she asked confused. Why wouldn't she meet the owner? He hired her after all!

"He's—Jamie!"

"Meg!"

Christine looked over to where Meg was staring at just in time to see a young girl come flying down the stairs.

"Madame Garrison said you were bringing the American over and oh hello!"

"Um, hello." Christine smiled.

Jamie had to be no older than eighteen Christine assumed. She wasn't tall, maybe an inch smaller than Christine. But she was thin like a stick, though maintaining a dancer's figure. Her skin was paper white and long, greasy-like ink black hair that was pressed flat to her heart-shaped face. Her olive green eyes were filled with curiosity as she scrutinized Christine carefully.

"So you must be Christine Dawson," Jamie said. "I'm Jamie Jameson, not kidding. My parents are not completely cruel, but for a baby it was considered 'cute'. I'm part of the _corps de ballet_ and I hope to be Prima Ballerina someday. But Madame Garrison tells me my head is too much in the clouds and I need to focus on my dancing. I tend to be like that and I don't practice as much as I should."

Christine nodded slowly, glancing over to Meg who kept an amused expression. "Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Yeah that's what Madame says to us all the time."

"And she's right," Christine went on warmly. "Do that and who knows what could happen?"

"Yeah. But for now I'm going to enjoy my life then I'll get serious."

_O…okay_, Christine thought. "Well, Jamie it's nice to meet you. I'm taking over for—"

"Maria Giovanni. We all know. Let's hope you can do a better job to please _him _otherwise there might be an ac—"

"Jamie," Meg interrupted icily. "Let's for once not talk about that."

"Talk about what?" Christine asked.

"C'mon Meg! She's going to find out sooner or later!" Jamie pouted.

"Drop it Jamie. By the way where's Stacey? Couldn't you go and bother her?"

Jamie stuck out her tongue. "For your information, Meg, Stacey is _my _friend and I do not bother her. Besides, she's busy talking to your mother about the costumes." She looked to Christine. "Stacey's part of the ballet like me. She's about Meg's age and is totally talented."

"Oh! So is she the Prima Ballerina?"

Jamie and Meg exchanged a silent look. "Technically… no. She was going to be promoted but something happened."

"She slept with the wrong guy," Meg whispered. Christine's eyes widened.

"I felt bad. Stacey has wanted that position as badly as me!" Jamie exclaimed. "Since you got lucky by taking over for the Prima Donna, Stacey's hoping that the P.B., who is Giselle Labelle, would either drop dead or walk so she could get it."

"And Giselle slept with the right man," Meg told Christine.

"I… I see," Christine replied. "Tough break, huh?"

"You have no idea!" Jamie snorted. "As I said, you got lucky."

"Y-yeah I guess I did."

"Come! You should meet Stacey! She should be done talking by now." Jamie pulled on Christine's hand as she led the girls to the dressing rooms.

On their way, Christine was able to get more of a glimpse of the theatre. She never saw anything like it before as Jamie's words "You got lucky" were echoing in her head. _Lucky isn't half of it_, she thought. _I hit the jackpot._

Jamie's pace quickened as they past a hallway that was different than the most. No lights were lit down the darkened hall. _Odd, _Christine thought. _Wouldn't someone be in those rooms?_

"Meg?" she hissed. "What's down there?"

Meg looked over where Christine pointed and shuddered. "Later," she mouthed and nodded to Jamie, who was off speaking about something. Christine got her meaning and didn't say anything else. Her head turned back to the hallway and sighed. _What could be so secret about a hallway? _

She didn't have much time to reflect on it as they ran into Jamie's friend Stacey.

"Stacey! She's here!" Jamie squealed with delight. "Christine, this is Stacey Carter."

"Hi," Christine said, holding out her hand. Stacey looked down at it and back up to Christine, an eyebrow raised. "Hello." She shook her hand curtly before quickly wiping it on her skirt. "So you're here in place of Signora Giovanni?"

Christine frowned at her action. "Yes I am."

"Huh." She looked her over. "I guess you'll do."

Christine's mouth dropped at her statement. _What the Hell…?_

Stacey Carter could have possibly been your high school's typical popular girl. She was highly attractive, and it was obvious she knew. She was a platinum blonde, her color much bolder than Meg's, and was nearly as tall as the other blonde. Very slender and thin, she had a shapely body that she used well with her clothing. Not too exposed but enough for guys to go wild. She had a fair complexion and blue-green eyes that she highlighted with the dark and curvy eyelashes.

She smiled at Christine. The image further went on with the perfect set of pearly straight teeth. "I hope you like it here. I must admit your presence has sparked a lot of interest in such a short record. Then again, anyone who will be singing for Maria Giovanni will have that affect." She winked.

"Okay Stacey, leave her alone," Meg said, irritated. "She's not going to be out for you. Who would?" she finished the last in a mumble.

Stacey ignored Meg and went on with her smile. "New York, hmm? I love New York."

"It's not nearly as great as Paris," remarked Christine.

"What city isn't?" Stacey chuckled. "So, Christine, if all goes well do you plan on sticking around longer?"

Christine shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"Oh. Do so then. Or not."

"Did you know Stacey's roots here go back to the late 19th century?" Jamie piped up, breaking through the tense atmosphere.

"Please Jamie. I'm sure Christine really wouldn't care, but since you mentioned it," Stacey clasped her hands. "I would love to tell you. Now, I don't like to brag or anything…"

"That'll be the day," Meg snickered. Stacey shot her a look. "Do you mind Megara? As I was saying, from the opening of the Opera Garnier my great-great grandmother, La Sorelli, worked as a dancer here. She also happened to be the mistress to the Comte Philippe de Chagny. Of course, it never could have been proved, except by those who knew."

"Probably a rumor," Meg interrupted. "La Sorelli was known for her stories."

"Please Meg. I'm telling my life's story. Anyways, she had a child by him and all of our descendents have a talent either in the arts or politics."

Christine politely nodded as Stacey went on and on. She tossed Meg a 'Help Me' look, which the girl offered a sympathetic smile. It went on for a few more minutes until Stacey suddenly asked:

"So you want to meet the owner?"

"What?" The sudden change in topic caught Christine off guard.

"The owner," Stacey repeated as if she was speaking to a slow child.

"The owner," Jamie echoed.

Christine noted the teen's inapt admiration to her fellow dancer as she clung reverently to each word. It would seem to Jamie that Stacey Carter was some kind of Goddess for having such a colorful history in regards to her origins and work. She wanted to laugh the goofy look she had as she hung to each sentence, her eyes glazed-over in stupefied wonder. But she kept it to herself. It wasn't the time to make enemies with her colleagues no matter how much obnoxious and self-centered Stacey seemed to give off.

"Yes. Meg said I might not—"

"And you won't. Roberts most likely as he is the conductor for the theatre," Stacey explained. "Don't be sad, it's not you. He hardly comes out of his office and if there's any announcements usually Roberts or Meg's mother makes them."

Meg nodded. "It's true."

"So is he paranoid or something?" asked Christine.

The three girls shrugged. "It's just his nature, I suppose," Meg said. "He doesn't like to bring attention to himself that I know for certain. He's a de Chagny."

"De Chagny? The de Chagny? As in the de Chagny, the most highly respected Parisian family?"

"The one and only." Meg grinned. "Well, not so much anymore. You see, he was supposed to be given the title of Vicomte but he was disowned so it went down to his brother."

"Rumor has it that he secretly despised his great-great grandfather, the Comte Raoul de Chagny, ever since he was a child. It didn't come out into the open until he was about to be called Vicomte. It brought so much controversy to the family that his parents couldn't call him son anymore," added Jamie.

"No one knows for sure exactly why he hates him," Stacey said. "But it has something to do with his great-great grandmother and their marriage. She used to be a singer here at the time mine worked here and Meg's as well."

"Really?" Christine turned to Meg, who looked away sheepishly. "Most of us has some type of connection to the theatre," she answered.

"There was a horrible scandal between her and the grandfather. You see, he wanted to marry her and of course because of their status the match was frowned upon. But it wasn't just that. Supposedly there was another but the de Chagnys' are too proud to admit that of their history. At the time his great-great grandfather was the patron of the theatre, but as you know the de Chagny's don't sponsor anything in the arts anymore. It was because of the marriage and the events that followed. Never again would they want to partake in it. But not the owner.

"In a strange sense of irony, he was named after the said ancestor he so hates. Well, he wanted to take over the Garnier for his own reasons. His parents didn't want him to take on this project and threatened him multiple times to stop. They thought if they gave him the title of Vicomte he would cease all foolishness. But he went on with the help of his brother, Philip, to buy the theatre. His brother didn't agree with the parents and their actions. They're very close. He's the only relative that M. de Chagny will recognize," Stacey continued.

"Uh-huh. But some think the reason he did this was to put to rest of the ghost that caused it all to happen. You can imagine how his denouncement of his ancestry pleased him," Jamie finished nonchalant.

"Him?"

"Jamie, why do you always in any conversation refer to it?" Meg demanded.

"Megara Garrison! If your mother heard," started Stacey. "No worse. If he'd had heard—"

"Will you both stop it! Christine, whatever they say don't listen to them. It's just a story and nothing more," she told her, while glaring at the dancers.

"You didn't tell her? How could you not tell her?" Stacey cried out angrily. "Don't you know how dangerous it would be if Christine wasn't properly informed of our permanent resident?"

Christine watched in daze confusion as all three went off bickering at the same time. She hadn't the slightest clue as to whom they were talking about, but there was an odd flip-flop feeling in her stomach that wouldn't go away. Like she knew. A dreaded feeling almost but she couldn't put her thumb as to why. Christine never been here before so why should she be so finicky about it? Yet she felt compelled to know.

Swallowing, she asked them once more of whom they were arguing about.

"Why, the Phantom of the Opera!" gasped Jamie. "You never heard of him? I understand it's part of our history, but still you never heard?"

"Yes… no, I mean!" Christine smiled. What on Earth has gotten into her? She never heard of a Phantom at the Garnier. So why did she quickly respond, "yes" for? Shaking her head, she thought maybe the jetlag was catching up on her. "So who is he?"

"One who doesn't liked to be talked about," Stacey lowered her voice to a faint whisper. "Whatever you do, never go near that darkened hallway I'm sure you passed. The old dressing rooms from the original structure are there including the one marked 'Daae'. It's haunted!"

She couldn't help it. Christine threw her head back and laughed long and full. The girls gave her an odd look, which only made her laugh even harder. "I'm s-sorry!" she giggled. "But 'haunted'? This is the 21st century for God's sakes. Ghosts don't exist."

"So? He **does **exist! Joseph Brolin, he's the Chief of Flies, saw him!"

"And I told you once before Jamie Jameson that Brolin was hallucinating from the LSD." Meg smirked.

"He was not! Tell her Stacey!" Jamie whined, practically begging the older girl.

But she turned away nervously. "I saw him too Meg."

"What? Stacey…" Meg began.

"I'm serious Garrison! I saw him do in poor Carlotta."

"Carlotta?" Christine repeated. Jamie muttered, "Maria's bird."

"Okay, maybe I didn't see him see him. But I saw that cage open up and her head twisted around _by it's self_!"

Christine paled from her story as Meg rolled her eyes. "You both need to get a grip. There's no such thing as ghosts and phantoms! This was what I warned you about Christine."

"Megara Garrison!"

All four heads snapped up to find a stern-looking woman staring disapprovingly at them. Her beady eyes glared at them until they settled on Christine, which they melted into kindness. She was a tall woman, around Meg's height, with caramel-color hair pulled back into a French braid. Her brief harsh features turned friendly and welcomingly as she held out a hand to Christine. "Ah, so you must be Christine Dawson. I'm Adele Garrison. We spoke to each other over the phone."

Christine accepted the friendly gesture and smiled back. "Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. I trust your flight was pleasant."

"It was. I'm just happy to finally be here."

Adele laughed. It was a sweet sound but judging from the looks from the other girls, it must have been a pastime trait that occurs rarely in Adele. "I hope these girls weren't boring you, my dear."

"Not at all. They were telling me about—"

"The Phantom! Meg failed to do so." Jamie shot Meg a dirty look, which the blonde returned back.

"That's enough! I swear, Megara, you act like you used to when you were a teenager. I expect some maturity by now from my daughter. And you Mlles Jameson and Carter, I believe both of you need to work more on your routines. Now scoot!"

"Yes Madame," the latter said, bowing quickly before running off. Meg followed not far, her white face red with embarrassment and anger.

There was something about Adele Christine noticed right off the bat, and that was her uncanny ability to command the girls without receiving an earful or backward glances. She thought she imagined Stacey trembling when Adele barked at them. It was either they greatly admired the ballet mistress or they feared her. Though, from the phone Christine couldn't imagine Adele being harsh to anyone. She had such a nice demeanor and now she wasn't sure.

"Now that they're gone, how about I take you down to see M. de Chagny? He should be expecting you," Adele said as she began leading Christine from where she came from.

"M. de Chagny? I thought…"

"Oh so they told you about him? It's all true, my dear, but do try not to bring it up. He doesn't like discussing his private affairs to anyone. But I'm sure you wouldn't. And consider yourself lucky in meeting him. Normally he doesn't like any kind of interviews with the hired unless he can't help it. But, you, he does want to meet. And another thing to remember—don't mention him."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Phantom?"

"Yes. I know you probably don't believe in that sort of thing, but to save trouble just heed the warnings that the girls told you. It's best to be careful and smart, instead of ignorance."

"I'm sorry Madame—"

"Adele," she corrected.

Christine blushed. "Adele. It's that it sounds absurd. I don't mean to be rude but—"

"No of course you're not. It's understandable you feel that way, at first. But for the sake of argument, I want to tell you that everyone here thought so when they came here. But then things started to happen. Things that couldn't be unexplained. Props would go missing, scenes falling, the unexplainable drop in temperature, and the eerie music heard through the walls late at night. This accumulated into fear to all of us. So we take the necessary precautions to make sure we don't anger him.

"You know the hallway that has no lights? Well, that's called the 'Lost Hallway', 'the Old Garnier', and the 'Death Crossing'. Many names but they all mean the same. It belongs to the Phantom and no one is allowed to go down there. Though, there is no reason for anyone to venture there. You'll be fine as long as you refrain from going into those dressing rooms."

"So it must be his favorite haunt?" joked Christine.

Adele didn't laugh, but scowled. "Child, this is no laughing matter and that kind of sense of humor would get you into trouble."

Christine sobered. _Maybe Meg wasn't kidding after all. _The rest of the walk was quiet even as they entered M. de Chagny's office.

There was no one inside. Adele sighed. "Please sit, Mlle Dawson. I'll be right back with him."

Without another word, Adele was gone leaving Christine to fend for herself.

She slumped into the nearest chair by his desk and glanced around the small room.

De Chagny's office wasn't anything special, which was peculiar considering the majestic building it was in. Like any office, the essentials of desk, computer, and file cabinets occupied the space. There were a few shelves full of books (_Must be a big reader_, she thought) and a few plants were scattered about giving it some life to the dull place. A painting of the opera house was hanging above the desk giving color to the boring gray walls. But unlike many offices, no pictures of family members were on the cherry wood desk or the walls.

Then again, since his family seems to be a sore spot he wouldn't have them around, but what of a wife and kids? From the looks of it, he must be single or he must hate his own nuclear family as well.

"Ahem."

Christine jumped in her seat, turning around startled. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice Adele returning.

But if that wasn't humiliating, than when she locked eyes with the owner was. Christine didn't expect him to be… young. He was drop-dead gorgeous to be honest. She knew she was staring, but Lord knows she couldn't help it as her heart refused to beat.

To begin with, he had a nice built. The physical evidence that he works out was obvious from the good-postured broad shoulders to the plainly flat chest his shirt was pressed on. The top of his flaxen head was done in a crew-cut fashion as the rest stuck out over his ears. His sea-green eyes bored into hers as an adorable smile sprouted, showing a little dimple on his cheek. He was unlike any manager she met. Well, usually because they were either middle-aged or drop-dead soon. But him… he had to be in his late twenties possibly thirty.

Adele noticed the look between them and smiled. "I guess I should leave you be." The door shut but neither of them acknowledge Adele's exit. It seemed an eternity passed before he was the first to speak.

"Mlle Christine Dawson. It's an honor to meet you at last. I'm Raoul de Chagny."

"H-hi," she stuttered. _God! Could I be even more of an imbecile? He's your boss! Stop staring at him! Oh what he must think of me… and why does he have to be so handsome? Stop it Christine!_

Her nervousness only seemed to make him even more irresistible. He continued to smile at her even as he took his spot behind his desk. Almost like he expected this reaction from her, but why should she? She thought he was old! Even after what she heard… she still thought he was some old geezer.

Christine realized they were both silent and her mouth was slightly opened. She quickly shut it, hoping he didn't notice.

Raoul winked at her and started his business he had with her. "So, I prayed that Madame Williams told you of the role?"

God those eyes! They were so deep as if they could look into the depths of her soul. Though Christine found this thought odd. No one could do that. That sort of feeling could only be found in romance novels. And this wasn't a book but real-life. She nodded.

"Yes my mother performed Marguerite at the Met when I was younger. So I'm quite aware of the demand of the character." _That's right. Keep it cool and to the job at hand. _

"Splendid. I know this might seem odd from what you'reused to, not being allowed an audition at first. But I'm afraid we don't have the time to decide if you can do it or not. So I'm trusting my instincts that you can do this."

She blushed. "T-thank you Monsieur. That's awful kind of you."

He waved it off. "Don't think anything of it. It's a pleasure to have you aboard. You have a gift indeed and having you use it in my theatre is all the privilege I need."

As he went on speaking, Christine found herself intrigue with de Chagny. He knew what he wanted, that was for sure, and wasn't at all arrogant or self-absorbed as others were she had worked for. But there was something about him… Why did he seem familiar? Like they met somewhere before…

Christine fiddled with her thumbs as he wrote something down. Did he believe in the Phantom too? She wasn't sure where that idea came from, but she wondered. Was he as superstitious as everyone else? Or a nonbeliever trapped in the crazed phenomenon?

Without realizing, she blurted out, "Do you believe in the Phantom?"

Raoul stopped and blinked. "Excuse me?"

_You booby! _"I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"

"No need for apologies. I guess probably Mlles Jameson and Carter told you of our ghost?"

Christine sheepishly nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Those girls love a fresh pair of ears to listen."

"Hurray," she muttered.

He chuckled. "Nonbeliever, huh? You can keep it that way if you want, don't let anyone pressure you to believe. But who knows? You might turn into one."

It was her turn to laugh. "Yeah right."

He shrugged. "You never know. You might."

"We'll see Monsieur."

"Please call me Raoul. Monsieur sounds too formal and old for me."

She grinned. "Okay. You must call me Christine then if I'm to call you Raoul."

"Deal. So let's talk more about Marguerite, shall we?"

xxXXxx

The next couple of hours flew by too quickly for Christine. After they finished talking about her and her part, they spent the rest of the time chatting about themselves. Christine began to loosen up and open a bit to him. He was very easy to talk to and comfortable to be around. He didn't make her feel like a fool, which she was sure she must have acted when the meeting started.

Christine was surprised to find they had a lot of the same tastes in books, music, movies, and of course operas. They were so caught up in their conversation that Raoul almost missed his phone ringing.

"Sorry." He grinned lopsided. "I forget I'm in charge here sometimes."

While he was busy, Christine found herself admiring Raoul de Chagny. She couldn't understand why he liked to hide from others. If it was his looks then he was so wrong. Maybe eccentric? But he didn't seem to be. Then it could be that he was young that many won't take him seriously. It sounded plausible.

"I'm sorry Christine, but this is important. I'll see you later?" Raoul asked hopefully.

How could she not? "Yeah. It was nice meeting you."

He nodded her a good-bye as she let herself out of the office. Stepping out, a cool draft blew past her as she shivered. Most of the lights were out and she checked her watch. Almost ten. _It's that late? I guess 'Time flies when you're having fun' is true._

She hoped that Meg was still around. _Duh she has to. She's your only ride. Adele must have told her the meeting would take longer than thought originally. Or something._

She made her through the halls, hugging her chest tightly as the temperature started dropping rapidly. _Damn! Do these people know what heat is?_

Every way she turned, she didn't see anyone. "Meg?" she called, hoping she was somewhere nearby. There was something eerie about this place in the dark. _Come on Christine. Don't be so childish. _Shaking her head, Christine trusted herself as she guided to what she hoped was the exit. "Meg?" she tried once more but there was no reply. Walking slowly, Christine anxiously looked around in hopes that someone would hear her.

As she turned the next corner, a dark figure darted across from the corner of her eye. "Hello? Wait!" Christine picked up her pace where she saw the figure went.

The hallway whoever went down was terribly frigid. Her teeth were chattering and she thought about turning back. But somehow she couldn't.

"Hello? I'm new here and I'm lost… Hello? Is anyone here?" Her voice shook as she found herself thinking back to Adele's earlier words of staying out of the 'Death Crossing' for the Phantom rules there. Was this what she was talking about? From what Christine could make out, it was different than the other corridors. The beams of the ceiling were cracked stone meeting cement from a restoration done. A mugging scent invaded her nostrils as she went deeper down.

A voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to go back now, but it was too dark to see which way was back or forward. Then another voice, not of her own, began taunting her.

_Beware of the Phantom._

"There are no such things," she firmly told herself. From a distance she heard a chilling laugh that sent tremors crawling up her back. _No! There are no such things. You're just imagining things_, she thought.

She took another step forward only to hear a heavy footstep from behind. Or was it in front of her? She couldn't tell.

"H-hello?" she cried, her voice timid and unsure. "I'm lost and I—AH!"

She screamed as a hand dropped on her shoulder. Brutally, she was whirled around, another hand clamped over her mouth.

"Quiet! Do you want him to come?" a raspy though slurred voice asked her.

Wide-eyed, Christine shook her head as the pressure was released from her mouth. Whoever it was, grabbed her arm and began dragging her from the opposite direction she was facing out into a clear hallway where some lights were on.

_Funny. I could have sworn they were off when I came from that way_, she thought, but shrugged it away. Definitely must be the jetlag.

In front of her was a short, stout figure of a man. He was grizzly in appearance from his disheveled gray hair to his ruffled clothes. The bitter sour smell of alcohol was strong on his breath and she tried not to gag.

"You shouldn't be down there, girly," the man went on. "You're lucky that old Brolin here found you before he did. Who knows what the sick bastard might do a pretty thing such as yourself?"

Christine didn't want to think about it either. Not from the "Phantom" or Brolin. _Again I agree with Meg. I wouldn't believe a word from him even if he was the last man on earth and held the key to survival._

"Now that you're here, your friend has been looking for you."

Christine dumbly followed him before casting another glance to the darkened hallway. Someone was watching her… even now.

TBC…

Just a little sample of what's to come. :smirks: It'll get better. Don't forget to review!


	4. Chp 3: Visions of Past Memories

A/N: Well, I was able to quickly put with this chapter together before the full week sets in and I'll be crammed with work. Right now we're getting to some interesting points of the story and the research I've done was fascinating. So I hope you'll enjoy what I have in here. **Please don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 3- Visions of Past Memories**

"You okay?" Meg asked Christine as she drove home. "You looked like you seen a ghost when Brolin found you."

"It's nothing. I got lost and I ended up running into him." Christine looked out the window, watching the cars past by.

"Yeah if I saw him in the dark I would feel the same way," she laughed. "Well, to let you know he wouldn't have done anything to you. Despite he's a pig, drunk, and louse he can be a gentleman."

"Hmm." Christine leaned against the cool windowpane, thinking about what occurred in the opera house. She had to admit she was scared out of her mind, though she would consider herself the kind of person who doesn't scare easily. But something wasn't adding up right. She knew any logical person would have turned away, but there was something that kept her rooted. Like she had to go down there.

_You're being silly, _she told herself. _That's impossible to feel drawn to a certain place. _Or was it?

"Christine?"

"Yeah M--" Christine's voice cut off abruptly as she turned.

The car was gone. Meg sat on a cobblestone floor, about ten years younger, with long golden hair and no highlights. She wore a tutu of some kind and she looked at Christine with concern in her wide blue eyes.

"Christine, who is your tutor?"

She closed her eyes tightly and when they opened—Meg was back as herself, at the wheel of the car, and her highlights were present.

"Christine?" she repeated.

"Huh?" The brunette was still in shock momentarily before shaking her head. _No. It can't be them. Meg wouldn't be there. Damn, I must be really really exhausted to come up with this._

"I asked you what was M. de Chagny like. You did see him, right?"

"Oh. Yes I did. Sweet guy actually. And young. Did you know he was young?"

"Well yeah." Meg shrugged. "Even though he doesn't show himself there are pictures on the TV and magazines. Not so much anymore. But you get the idea."

"I like him. I think Raoul might be the best boss I ever had."

"Raoul? So you guys are already on first name basis so soon?" she teased lightly. "You haven't known him for a day and so far you two are pretty friendly."

"Am not!" Christine protested. "He's my boss. Don't start thinking like that Meg. We're on strict professional terms."

"Yeah right." Meg smirked, eyebrows wiggling.

Christine shook her head, laughing quietly. She liked Meg. She really did. Christine was never the one to connect with people right away, with Heather as an exception and that was because they were roommates. But with Meg Garrison… she didn't need any help or an incident to get talking. They just sort of clicked once they met. Which was nice since she has someone to talk here.

_I can talk to her. Maybe I should… no. She'll think I'm crazy and already I'm starting to think if I'm ready for the men with the white jackets. That… that was brought on from fatigue. Nothing else. I'm cool. Once we get back to the apartment, I'll finish unpacking and hit the hay. Then tomorrow I'll wake up and began working. There's nothing for me to start freaking out over. I'll just pretend that last night didn't happen and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. There. That's all I have to do. That's all I can do._

xxXXxx

_She fainted, her body no longer able to keep her going after she poured her soul into the outstanding performance. The last she remembered from blacking out was the standing ovation and the feeling **he **was proud._

_When she finally woke, she found herself in her dressing room along with the opera doctor, her maid, and a handsome stranger standing over her._

_The doctor begins to mutter something, she couldn't understand what, but her eyes never left the stranger's. He seemed familiar from somewhere… but from where? She searched his boyish blue eyes looking for some hint of recognition and finding none. At least nothing she remembered recently. Finding her voice, she asked,_

"_Monsieur, who are you?"_

_He smiled, kneeling beside her and taking her petite hand in his. "Why, I am the little boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf!"_

_The moment melted away and soon she's alone in her room, staring at the large mirror. The most heavenly, comforting voice floats all around her and through the walls. It beckoned her to come. She found herself unable to resist its Siren's call…_

_Then there's blood. Blood! Everywhere she looked the putrid stench stings her nose and there's no escape from it. _

_And the screams! She ran but no matter which way she goes the agonizing screams followed her from the poor souls._

_She found herself once more alone in a dark, cool room. She heard two voices calling her name and pleading for help. She turned to a man. A man, nothing more than a shadow, clad in black. She begged him to help but he remained rigid. She cannot see his face as he cruelly laughed, mocking the suffering taking place._

"_Angel of Music" she cried. "Angel of Music I gave you my soul!"_

_Darkness once more evaded and there she kneeled by a bedside, an elderly man lying in bed, barely holding on. He coughs violently, his body convulsing as she watches helplessly._

"_I promise I'll send him to you Little Lotte. And then you will sing like the angel you are," he tells her, before he draws his last breath._

Christine woke up, sweat dripping down her face. Breathing heavily, she ran her fingers through her tangled curls, trying to calm her raging nerves.

Those screams! The blood! Everything was too much.

"Oh God!" she moaned, throwing the covers off of her. Christine got up and walked over to the window to gaze out into the peaceful night. No foul play no danger.

She pounded a fist into the glass, leaning her forehead against it.

They were back. She had no doubt in her mind. And the worse of it was not only did she see herself like always, but also she saw Raoul. He was the handsome stranger who claimed he rescued her scarf from the sea. And the man… that dark man whose face she can never see. He was there as well with her, while those two beings were calling her out for help.

"Why now?" she whispered brokenly. Closing her eyes, Christine stayed in that position for a few minutes before returning back to bed. _These are supposed to be gone! Gone! I was done with them!_

Drifting back to sleep, she knew when morning came she would have to make a call home. There was no other way.

xxXXxx

The next morning, Christine nervously sat on the couch, waiting for Meg to come out. She wanted to ask her first before she made any impulse calls. The door opened and she jumped up as the bedraggled blonde came dragging out.

She yawned loudly, stretching her arms over her head. Catching Christine, she smiled. "Morning. How was your first night? Good I hope."

Christine returned her smile. "It was needed after the long flight."

"I can imagine. So what do you want for breakfast? I know I said I didn't have much, but I'm sure I have some bagels lying around."

"Bagel sounds fine."

Meg nodded. Before she went to go to the kitchen, Christine blurted out. "Meg, do you think I could use your phone? To call a friend."

"Yeah. You live here now so be my guest. As long as it doesn't kill me when I get the bill."

Christine laughed. "I promise it won't be long."

As Meg went to search for food, Christine reached for the handset on the coffee table. She knew quite well Heather was in bed, but she would understand once she explained the emergency.

She quickly dialed her number. On the third ring she answered.

"H-hello?"

Christine felt bad waking her, but too late now. "Heather it's me."

"Christine?" came the sleepy response. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I know and I'm sorry but—"

"Well I'm pretty much frickin tired and you had your eight hours' sleep already so one of us will be perky. But I'm sure you had your reasons so out with it Dawson."

"Okay, I don't know how to begin this, but last night I had… I had… oh Christ. They came back."

"What? Oh my God…"

"I know I know. I needed someone to talk too and you're the only person who knows."

Heather was more awake now. "Chris. I'm so so sorry! Okay, tell me everything. Spare no details."

Christine relayed her entire dream, of course not skipping anything of importance. Her voice was kept so low that Meg couldn't overhear. That was the last thing she would want to happen.

Like she knew, Heather listened intently to every word she said. She could picture the short dark-haired girl, her face scrunched in thought. Heather never judged Christine or anyone else, plus she had a great ear to listen. And right now that ear was needed big time.

They met back as freshmen at Juilliard. They were roommates and right away Heather introduced herself and wanted to know everything there was about Christine Dawson. At first, she wasn't sure if she wanted to confide her whole life story to some girl she met, but Heather made her feel comfortable and not that she was worth for some juicy gossip. As Heather like to put it, "I don't like to gossip. But I **do** spread the news as it's told."

But if Christine told her something that was strictly confidential she knew it wouldn't be leaked out. Heather expected the same courtesy from her and so they became fast and good friends.

Christine from the start admired and envied the outgoing girl. She had the type of carefree attitude that she longed for. Heather didn't take crap from anyone, not even from her own friends. If one were to say something to her that she didn't like or about someone, that person would receive an earful. And if one were to be completely hard on themselves then Heather would have her say and make that person laugh. Christine owed Heather for bringing her back to the world of music. She was her harshest critic and had her input for hiding such a gift.

"You have talent, Chris. I don't understand why you would want to hide it from everyone else," she told her once.

She knew what happened to her parents' and when Christine told her excuse about how it brought too many painful memories, Heather had this to say:

"They died, big deal. Continue singing for their memory. That's what they would have wanted you to do. They would want you to share your voice than sit around blubbering all day."

Her witty comments always made Christine rethink her decisions and for the most part Heather was always right.

But hiding her voice wasn't the only secret she had kept from her. Heather only found out when it had become too graphic for Christine to handle.

For as long as Christine could remember, she had these dreams—visions actually. But hers were more based off in the past. As a child, she grew afraid of nighttime since it was then when the dreams would come. Some were pleasant but mostly they were terrifying and horrific, especially to a delicate mind of a child.

Her parents thought she had an over active imagination that kept her up at night. So when it came to movies and television shows, they were limited and strict to avoid any nasty nightmares.

But that didn't help. Christine continued dreaming.

They were all about her. Seen through her point of view, she witnessed a variety of tragedies. But the ones she enjoyed were always viewed with such brightness and fervor. There would be an older man playing on his violin and telling stories from around the world, some of which Christine even repeated to her parents. They never knew of their origins and thought their daughter made them up. And then sometimes when the older man would sing and tell stories, there would be another with Christine. She knew it was a boy but his face was hazy whenever she looked at him and she couldn't understand a word he said.

The odd thing about these dreams was that the speech was in a foreign language. Christine wasn't fluent in any other language, yet she understood what was being said to her. For the longest time, she couldn't understand anything that was said to her from the operas. In her dreams, yes. But that all change one day…

Her mother was going through her lines for _Faust _when Christine past by. She heard her mother struggle with some of the translation. Matilda would always translate the words so she could get a better understanding of the words and find the emotions she needed to act. While she worked, Christine walked over and at once spoke aloud the lines in English. Matilda was confused at first at what she was doing until she realized Christine was translating it to her.

She copied what the seven-year-old said and looked it up. Imagine the shock she felt when her daughter was right. Never was Christine taught French and yet she was treating it like it was a native language. She even could pronounce the words without any difficulty. When asked how she knew, Christine replied it was the dreams. This incident prompted the Dawson's' to consider that there was more to them than what they originally believed.

So she was sent to see a psychologist specialized in interpreting dreams. After the first session, it was known Christine was experiencing a past life.

Doctor Fulton explained to the worried parents of the different forms people have when recalling a past life. Christine was undergoing two of them—the intuitive flashes and the spontaneous memories. The former deals with knowing things that one shouldn't know yet do. This being about her out of the blue knowledge of French. The latter occurs in children, starting between the ages of three to five.

Christine, she concluded, was reliving a past life but the memories were broken up fragments not in chronological order. From what Christine told her there were happy moments, but mainly horrendous. Some that were so bad she couldn't dare speak of. But the one question that chilled the Dawsons' to the bone, was Doctor Fulton's asking of the man in her dreams.

The loving parents never knew that a man who was surrounded by darkness plagued her. His face was obscured from the child, but she was deathly afraid of him. Sometimes he would sing to her, a gentle lullaby to help her sleep, but for the most part he would do terrible deeds. And this was emphasized by the screams and sight of blood.

She assured the Dawsons' that something like this would eventually go away when the child becomes the age of ten. It usually fades away and becomes forgotten. But until then, Matilda and Charles wanted Christine to undergo hypnosis to find out "who" Christine believed she was and hopefully it would help end it.

But no matter what method was used, Christine could never reveal who she was or who was with her.

She was taken to many other doctors and the prognosis was always inconclusive. Whoever Christine was reliving wouldn't confess her name or what was taking place. It was odd that this vital information wouldn't be known. But the Dawsons' hoped that Doctor Fulton would be right that it would eventually fade away.

As Christine's tenth birthday came and passed, the dreams didn't cease. No one could explain the phenomenon that was taking place. It was at this time when Matilda died.

Her death was a blow to Christine and her father. Yet after her mother's death the visions stopped on their own accord. For eight years, she was free from the nightmares until the night Heather found out.

He was back. The man in her dreams, but unlike the others, this one wasn't seen through Christine's point of view. Instead, she saw herself watching a couple. The woman kept her back to her but the man she could see as plain as day. He wore a bright white mask, covering his entire right side, a contrast to the ebony clothes he had on. He was crying even as the woman seemed to be whispering something in his ear before kissing his forehead.

Then she handed over a small ring to him and Christine heard the painstaking words, "I promise".

"I promise" what exactly made Christine wonder, but once those words were said the woman vanished leaving her alone with the strange man. His mask was off, but like before his face was covered in the shadows. Christine thought for sure she couldn't have been seen while the exchange took place, but the man looked her right in the eye as an unsettling grin took over his pallor lips.

"You belong to me and me alone," he spoke, reaching out for her. It was at that point, his face was revealed to her.

Christine was awoke screaming by Heather's insistent shaking. She couldn't remember the end of her dream. His face was so sudden that it was practically a blur, but the thought made her cringe and sob into her friend's arms. When she eventually calmed, Heather asked her what happened. She tried to brush it away by saying it was a nightmare and nothing more. But damn Heather's stubbornness.

She was able to get Christine to spill the next morning. It didn't take much but a few kind words and breakfast in bed for Christine to confess. She never told anyone of this, not even Mama Val, but she told Heather she thought they were gone for sure. She hadn't had a vision for eight years.

Heather didn't make fun of her nor did she tell anyone when Christine decided not to show up in class that day. The dream shook her to the very core and she wanted to refrain from the public's eye. Heather was a great sport in all of it and gave her space until Christine was ready to discuss it.

Heather was the second person for her to confide into and she could never ask for a better person to listen and keep it zipped. But that was it. After that ordeal, the visions didn't return.

Now it was six years later and they returned. Once more Christine thought they were gone forever, but it seemed it wasn't her luck to forget.

When Christine finished, Heather was quiet for a few minutes, and for a second she was afraid she fell asleep.

"No, no. I'm still here. Just thinking Chris."

"I can't believe it Heather. I simply can't. For six years I had peace. Six years! What am I going to do?" Christine sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe it would be like before and no more would come."

"I don't think so." Christine looked to see that Meg was busy reading the paper and she went back to the conversation. "On the way back from the Garnier, I had a vision/daydream."

"What happened?"

"The girl I'm living with, Meg, was in it. But it was her younger. She was talking to me about my tutor and then it was over."

"Tutor? You never had one," Heather commented.

"I know. But perhaps my past life did? God, I feel so weird talking about this."

"Don't. Have you read the papers and such? Most people get these."

"Yeah but not the way I do. Just lock me up and throw away the key."

"Quit it Chris. You're not crazy and I'm sure we established that long ago. Now let's break it down. The guy you saw. You said he looked like the owner right?"

"Precisely down to the smile and manners," confirmed Christine. "It's odd."

"But there could be a chance it was just a dream about handsome Frenchie," Heather teased.

"No! It was not and I'm positive he didn't influence my dreams in anyway. But I can't help but get this feeling we met before… you don't think there's a connection I'm missing?"

"I dunno. I'm no expert Christine so the only thing I can offer is advice."

"Right now I'm game for anything."

"It could have been a fluke of some kind. Now what you told me was pretty morbid so could there have been some kind of inspiration?"

"Well, Meg and the girls at the Garnier told me about their ghost. Apparently, the opera house is haunted by a Phantom and everyone seems to believe in him, excluding Meg. They even went as far to tell me that this certain hallway is off-limits."

"There you go! This Phantom thing probably encouraged your tired mind to come up with the dream. Not to get off topic but how's the city? I've been dying to know and all you been telling me was the next storyline for a Wes Craven film."

Christine laughed. "It's lovely. Meg promised me she would show me around. Most likely the shops. So is there anything special you want me to get you?"

"A Frenchman would be nice. Is that Raoul guy single?"

"I'm not sure and even if he is, I don't think he would appreciate me packing him to ship off to the States. But then again why would I want to give you him?"

"Ah, because I'm your best friend and you love me."

"Nice try," Christine smirked. "What about Trent?"

"Noncommittal."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it. Get me whatever Chris."

"All right but you might be sorry."

"I'll chance it. Oh and Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"If anything should happen I'm a call away, got it?"

"I'll remember. Thanks."

"No problem. And also, when you do call me, please be aware of the time difference. If I have to wake up in the middle of the night for your sorry ass then I won't be responsible for what might occur when I fly over there."

"I'll keep that in mind. Bye Heather and good-night!"

"Night!"

Christine disconnected and stared at the phone. _Heather could be right. It's probably some dream and nothing else. There's no need to worry about it._

"Hey Christine aren't you going to eat? We have rehearsals in an hour!"

"Coming!" She got up and glanced down at the handset. _Fluke. That's it. A fluke._

TBC…

I just want to let everyone know that Erik is a _ghost _in here. The appearances he'll make won't be obvious in that you see him there, but the feeling of his presence. This story is mostly centered on Christine and what happens to her as well a little of Raoul. But don't be discouraged! I'm an EC shipper and like I said I have made this good for both sides. I don't want to give away too much of the ending, but please don't abandon this! Thank you and please please don't forget to review!


	5. Chp 4: An Unexpected Surprise

A/N: I quickly got this done before I go camping this weekend. Boo! Last trip for the season for me! I love camping… as much as I love Phantom. No Phantom beats all. Thank you again to my lovely reviewers! And to my beta Megan for a fabulous job.

This chapter is dedicated to those who were affected by Hurricane Katrina. You're never far from our thoughts and prayers. I'm doing what I can to help and I encourage others to do the same. Donate whatever you have for the cause. Thank you.

**Chapter 4- An Unexpected Surprise**

It was a clear crisp morning when Raoul de Chagny entered the Opera Garnier. He nodded to a few acquaintances as he made his way into his office to kick off the day with some calls and paperwork.

He checked his clock above his door, noting it was 6:25. It became a habit of his to come in early and be one of the last to leave. It had been like this ever since he bought the theatre four years back. Many would think he was a work-alcoholic, but there was more to it. He wanted to prove to his parents to some degree he could do this without their permission. They weren't thrilled when he told them he planned on buying it and even more so when he did. But it was part of the past. He no longer talked to them and it was fine. He didn't need them but he had this childish hope they would come visit to see how he did.

Raoul found a little memo on his desk from Roberts saying he owed him an apology… blah blah blah… and Christine Dawson was a pleasure to work with. He mentally grinned before placing the note in one of the drawers. Christine Dawson was indeed a pleasure to work with. At least, that's what he was hearing in the halls of the theatre.

For two weeks she was here. Two weeks. And he heard nothing but sincerity from the other employees in regards to the American. Raoul was pleased that his idea worked out well. From the moment he first heard her in New York, he knew she was Marguerite. The part practically screamed her name out.

From their initial meeting, he knew he found the right girl. He never had expected to find a replacement as quickly as he did to replace the Garnier's previous star. But in the end it had been worth it for as far as Raoul was concerned. There was something about her that he couldn't ignore and it wasn't because she had a pretty face.

Oh no, he had his fair share of pretty faces, but this particular girl was different. It was more of a feeling from the heart than a hard-core decision. Christine Dawson had a voice, he admitted, unlike any other singers he ever heard before. Her voice was pure and it could make the audience be filled with any emotions should she wish it on stage. She had that power, which Maria Giovanni lacked in. But there was also something more…

Shaking his head, Raoul went through the other papers he had on his desk left over from last night. He then came across a complaint from one of the stagehands. It didn't say what was wrong only something about the confounded Phantom. Reading this made his mind think back when Christine asked him if he believed in the Opera Ghost. He never gave her a straightforward answer, but how could he when he was still trying to answer that one himself?

Part of him didn't and another part did. It was half and half. In the logical sense, he believed the existence of ghosts and the supernatural was nonexistent. They were more of stories to tell to scare children and keep the imagination alive. But this wasn't some ordinary ghost story. His family shared a history of the man who once lived as the Phantom, one that no one wishes to discuss. He probably would have never known about him if it hadn't been for his curiosity as a child. But the belief he _still _existed was absurd. Yet working here for four years made him wonder.

He believed in the man but not the lonely spirit haunting the halls that so many claimed. But the Garnier did have its share of strange occurrences that couldn't be explained. Some that could be passed off as mere absentminded mishaps, but then there were some incidents that truly didn't have an explanation. No matter how hard one may looked.

His discovery of the man perpetrating as a Phantom was accidental. From birth, he learned quickly how his family felt about their ancestry. The de Chagnys' were a proud race that led clean and honest lives for centuries. Not one scandal could be found in the Family Archives until the years of 1880-1899. He was told from his parents about his great-great grandfather falling in love with a chorus girl at the opera house. As much as the idea sounded romantic, as they were childhood friends, at the time it was scandalous.

Raoul de Chagny was a Vicomte with a prestigious title and an expected role of him to marry into a well to do family to continue the linage. Well, a chorus girl was nothing more than to have as a mistress not a wife. His parents never elaborated why the match was so abhorred by the family, even though Christine Daae was a sweet-tempered girl with a heart of gold. They told him they were very much in love and led a happy life, which ended abruptly. Both died young, Christine from a heart disease and Raoul from a broken heart as the family said.

But something didn't make sense to the young lad. He understood the marriage being a scandal, but he never saw it as one to make a big deal out of. There had to be more to it than what his parents told him and he was determined to find out what exactly.

During the summer of his tenth year, Raoul spent many hours going through the archives searching for something that would explain something about the marriage. It was briefly mentioned between 1880-81 that Christine Daae was rumored to be in cahoots with a ghost in the Garnier where she worked. It said that the Phantom was obsessed with the young soprano in hopes of making her a rising star until she fell in love and married the Vicomte de Chagny.

The Phantom as described was a raving lunatic, yet a genius to the musical world. He had worked on his masterpiece for his entire life called _Don Juan Triumphant, _but was never finished. He was also a murderer and suspected of killing an old stagehand by the name of Joseph Buquet and the disappearance of the Comte Philippe de Chagny, the Vicomte's older and admirable brother.

There were some old newspaper clippings he found in some books that went on to say that the remains of the Comte were discovered at the bottom of the underground lake in the theatre about a month afterwards. The whole scandal surrounding Christine Daae, the Vicomte, and the Phantom lasted a few years before it died down and nothing was heard about them except their deaths.

Christine Daae and the then Comte both died in 1899, but the Phantom was reported dead in an evening edition of _l'Epoque_ in 1882, a year after the tragic events. A skeleton was found in one of the basement cellars, which many believed to be the feared Phantom of the Opera.

And that was all he could find. Raoul wanted to know more about the Phantom and his affiliation with his great-great grandmother. Yet the archives held hardly information except that he was a monster that Christine Daae believed him to be an Angel of Music sent by her dead father to coach her. But he knew there had to be more still. Everything he had found wasn't enough. A piece of the story was missing and it had to do with the relationship and possibly the "happy" marriage.

If his search hadn't been as disappointing, then what happened to him from than onto thirteen was something left to contemplate about.

Raoul would start having weird dreams that would end with him screaming. All of them dealt with him drowning in a horrible room with maniacal laughter surrounding him. There would be another with him, pleading and screaming for help. But he could never see the man's face and he barely understood what was being cried out. Eventually, Raoul confided to his younger brother Philip about his nightmares. He was the one who suggested that it might be a sign of some kind wanting Raoul to seek out the answer of what really happened. Raoul laughed outright at the proposal, calling it ridiculous. But the more he thought about it perhaps it wouldn't hurt.

He decided the best way to start was to review the archives once more to see if he could find any hints or loopholes and then try looking for diaries of his great-great grandparents. Surely of something like this it would have been recorded either by one or the other.

The more he investigated the more Raoul wondered if his great-great grandfather wasn't as great as everyone made him out to be. From reading his accounts, Raoul didn't like the airs the Comte gave off. It was obvious he was spiteful to the Phantom and condemned everything the man had done in his life, including his music.

_But how would he know what his music was like? _He thought. His conclusion would had to be from his great-great grandmother. She was the only person who knew the Phantom and probably would have heard his music. But surprisingly, Christine Daae's diary wasn't kept with the rest of the documents and records of the de Chagny family. He had torn the place apart looking for what could be the missing link, but it was no where to be found.

For a second, he was afraid her diary might be destroyed or lost over time. But as his dreams were becoming intense, Raoul had a feeling he was closer to the truth.

Then the fortunate had occurred. Raoul turned thirteen and that summer his family traveled to their summer home in Southampton. Upon fooling around in the attic, he came across the missing diary he had been looking for two years. He was so excited that he finally had the answer he been striving to seek out for years concerning his family. The book was the key and he finally had it in his hands.

Raoul read the book multiple times. The first time he was shocked, the second he was appalled, and by the third time he was furious. This was his only evidence to prove that the Comte Raoul de Chagny was nothing more than a monster and not the Phantom.

In her diary, Christine Daae was very much in love with the Phantom, though confused in the beginning of her initial feelings. And his great-great grandfather knew it and was the first to recognize that her love for the Ghost was much deeper than what she let on to believe. The pages were filled with warm regards and devotion to the man she thought was her Angel. When Raoul de Chagny entered the scene, her feelings were torn.

She admired her old friend and did love him (to a level of nothing more than a brother), but it was clear her heart belonged to the Phantom. It was pitiful that the Vicomte couldn't honor that and believed she was trapped under some kind of spell. He at first made her believe that what the Phantom was doing with her was wrong and convinced her she should be afraid of him.

It wasn't until the night of her disappearance during _Faust _when Christine Daae came to the realization she wanted to be with the Phantom. The Vicomte and the Persian (whose name was scratched out) went off after her to rescue her from the Phantom.

Lost in his lovesick mind, the Phantom gave her the choice of becoming his wife or choosing death to her lover and the opera house. She chose him but for some reason the ghost had a change in heart and decided to let her go. Christine made him a promise. She was to tell the Vicomte she could no longer marry him and return to the Phantom.

She then wrote saying she tried to break off her engagement to the Vicomte, but he wouldn't hear of it. Christine Daae was kept locked in her bedroom on account of an illness she had according to her fiancé and they were married there. From that day until her death, she was kept as prisoner to her former friend away from the man she truly loved. That was the true story.

The archives were all lies. There was no fairy-tale marriage; in fact there was no love between them at all. De Chagny raped the beautiful ingénue because of his jealousy and denial. From that moment on, Raoul resented his ancestor. There was no honor in him that he could find in the man.

Exhilarated with the newfound discovery, Raoul presented the diary to his parents. They were outraged by the audacity within its contents, but then quickly covered it up. The former Daae, they claimed, didn't write the diary, but a servant who disliked the family and hoped to ruin them.

Raoul was stunned by his parents' dismissal of the diary. Wouldn't the truth be best to know than to place a worthless man on a pedestal? He was outraged with their ignorance and as the years passed he grew bitter and distant towards them. He realized he could no longer idolize his parents if they still tend to worship de Chagny. It wasn't fair that his great-great grandmother's cruel treatment was being ignored by her own blood, even though she didn't want anything to do with the family. Justice was denied and Raoul felt he owed a duty to his relation to do so. The only good outcome from this was the nightmares ended, which Raoul was surprised that Philip was right about it.

Afterwards, Raoul became obsessed with the Garnier. He wanted to know everything there was about it. He knew his great-great grandfather was the patron and he was the last in the family to ever sponsor the arts. It became the de Chagny's omen to partake in such activities, though the reason was never clear to him or his brother when they were younger. But now, Raoul understood perfectly and made it seem better to start up again. He didn't care if it embarrassed his family or disgrace their name; he wanted to do this for his courageous great-great grandmother.

It was interesting to know the renowned opera house suffered a colorful history. Charles Garnier, the architect, won the commission to build the theatre in a contest in 1860. During the construction (which lasted fourteen years), two major events occurred. The Franco-Prussian War and the Commune (both in 1870) put the building on hold until at last it was opened in 1875.

Messieurs Debienne and Poligny managed the theatre until in 1880 they retired and gave the opera house to Messieurs Moncharmin and Richard. At the time there were rumors about the Phantom, which was a story told by the stagehands to terrify the _corps de ballet_. Yet strangely enough, the new managers were warned to uphold the orders given by O.G. They thought it was a joke until accidents were happening on a regular basis.

The great chandelier that was in the auditorium fell on the heads of the audience after the request of Christine Daae being in the lead was given to La Carlotta instead. Halfway into the performance, the leading soprano began croaking like a toad and the chandelier came tumbling down. Many were wounded but only one died—a woman who was to replace Madame Antoinette Giry, who was thought to be the Phantom herself.

The auditorium was damaged and the management and patron had enough funds for repairing. After the events surrounding the Phantom, the owners changed and after that the house fell tragically.

Over the years and into the new century, the number of attendants fell. Opera wasn't receiving the usual attention as it did before as new leisure activities were being pursued. As Europe was hit with the depression, the profit dropped dramatically and even more so during World War II. The Garnier was handed over to many different managers, each worse than the previous.

It wasn't until the 1950s when a fire broke out and damaged about half the theatre. The Garnier had to be shut down until it could be rebuilt, but the money was lacking. Finally in the mid-60s a restoration was done to preserve the original construction and rebuild what the fire destroyed. Once it was done, the theatre was still closed to the public until 1982 when it began running shows like it did before.

As the Garnier went through a rebirth so did the Phantom. The stories and rumors were brought up that its ghost was still haunting the theatre, and this time it was a real apparition and not a man. For decades, there been reports of mischievous sightings occurring inside. Some claimed to see a shadow moving around, but there would be no person. Then there was some who said they heard a violin playing when walking by. And some said they would hear a man screaming, yet when they go to help there's no one around.

Most nonbelievers dismissed the Phantom's existence despite the stories told from near-death experiences. In one story, a man was actually found dead in one of the early dressing rooms. From the autopsy report showed the man was strangled to death yet there was no sign of the weapon or killer at the scene. Some said they would see a face resembling that of a dancing corpse with fire for eyes in the shadows, but it could never be proven.

But those stories were told from construction workers or passersby. The ones that were more concrete came from the actual employees themselves.

When the theatre was reopened in 1982, all of the dressing rooms were put to use for the dancers and singers. Everything was fine until it was closing time. A couple of girls went missing and it wasn't known until the following day. A few days later, one of them emerged, white as a sheet. She was in such a state of shock that she couldn't remember what happened to her the past several days. Her friend was later found dead in the dressing room at the end of the hallway. That dressing room was the one formerly used by Christine Daae.

Certain incidents occurred similar to the first either with the victims found nearly dead or deceased. Those that were found alive couldn't relay what happened to them. But they would look to the darkest of shadows, frightened and trembling.

Some people were beginning to quit in fear they would be next. It wasn't until a suggestion was made, that if the perpetrator was the "Phantom", perhaps he was telling them something through these crimes. It was a laughable notion but one ballet mistress highly suggested they would keep away from the old dressing rooms and stay to the newer ones. After a few shakes and "it would never work" they tried it out for a month and no one went missing.

That former hallway was soon labeled the "Death Crossing" with the dressing room used by Christine Daae called the "Dressing Room from Hell".

That day forth, no one ever dared to walk through the hallway or go to any of the rooms in fear they would be caught by the Phantom.

Raoul found the entire story fascinating and it made him want to own the theatre even more. He talked to Philip about buying it and his brother supported him immeasurably.

The parents were a different story.

They scoffed at the notion, especially when Raoul's father wanted to pass down the title of Vicomte to him. Raoul made up his mind long ago he wouldn't want anything to do with the family responsibilities, including the title and power. The idea of being Vicomte didn't appeal to him. He wanted to do something more and useful in his life. He wanted to own the theatre that "ruined" his family and make it the best the world as ever seen. His parents foolishly thought if they gave him the title he would stop the charade. It didn't.

Philip told Raoul he would back him up if he should need it, _and the old bastard did_, he thought.

As Raoul refused to back down, his parents started to threaten him. His father told him he would disown him and take away his allowance if he did not fulfilled his duty. Raoul told his old man he didn't give a rat's ass about being Vicomte and if he wanted to own the Garnier then he shall with or without his blessings.

To add on to the insult, Raoul announced the deal was sealed and he was now the owner of the Garnier. He was twenty-two at the time and began to take charge of his own life.

The media went haywire when news broke out that Raoul de Chagny refused his title and was disowned by it. Philip got the title and the de Chagny fortune much to his chagrin.

The scandal went further with the family feud when Raoul openly came out to the public about his great-great grandfather. He denounced him as a liar, cheat, and adulterer. The severe humiliation had its toll on his parents, especially when he was named after the condemned.

Raoul's father took his son to court, but Philip intervened before things became too ugly. They were able to compromise with Raoul apologizing to his father privately. But despite how Raoul felt he was defeated in his cause, he kept his head raised high and went on with his life.

He became immune to the media and he didn't let any of their headlines get to him. Raoul wouldn't deny his belief how much of a louse his great-great grandfather was, but he had the dignity not to say so in public. Yes he didn't care about his parents, but he wouldn't bring shame to his brother. He respected Philip too much and he continued to keep communication with him. Philip was the only relative Raoul would acknowledge and keep in touch with. The rest of the family on their own accord excommunicated him, which didn't bother him in the least. He had what he wanted—the Opera Garnier.

It was hard strenuous work but Raoul was able to do what he dreamed to do. He brought the worldwide attention back to the theatre and renewed the old reputation of being the best. But it didn't mean he didn't have any trouble getting there.

Rumors still existed about the Phantom but now it became an age-old tradition to dish the tale out when fresh meat appears. The gossipers of the theatre were Stacey Carter and little Jamie. The latter enjoyed scaring visitors about the Opera Ghost since she came to train in the ballet.

Raoul admitted her tales were amusing and if he was to catch her ranting about the ghost, he would grin to himself and continue on with his work. He never stopped Stacey from telling others of her great-great grandmother having an affair with his great-great uncle. After what he found out about his family, he wouldn't be surprised if this affair was true.

But that wasn't the trouble he faced.

Raoul shuddered as he remembered the first time he had a close encounter with the being he thought wasn't real.

He heard of the stories and accidents that took place in the "Death Crossing" way before he bought the Garnier, but it didn't stop him from taking a walk down there to visit the room his great-great grandmother inhabited.

Once he step foot down the hallway, he felt a cool draft set in. He shrugged it off, thinking nothing by it, as he proceeded to go down to the last room at the end. Before he reached the door, Raoul was forcefully pushed against a wall. He started to yell at whomever did that and found he was alone. Raoul was positive somebody pushed him, but whatever it was he wasn't going to let it stop him. As he went inside, everything blacked out. But he indistinctly remembered feeling a pair of invisible hands wrapped around his throat before he fell unconscious.

When Raoul woke he was propped against his office's door with a note on his lap. The message was scrawled in crimson ink by the looks of a clumsy, childish hand, which read:

_THat wAs A waRnINg. NeXt TiMe You wOn'T Be lUCkY._

He couldn't decide after this if he should be terrified or what, but Raoul was a sensible man and he wasn't going to let something or somebody scare him off. He threw the note out and went about with his business. He would now and then paused at the hallway, wondering if he _did _came across the Phantom. Raoul had no doubt of his existence _before _but now he wasn't sure. Ghosts don't exist. Plain as day they don't. But could one in this case?

Raoul didn't tell anyone what happened to him and he thought it practical for him to stay away from the "Death Crossing". So he did but whatever presence he met wouldn't give up on him.

A few times he walked into his office to find it trashed. A couple of times he had to buy a new computer, but the last time he had to get the walls refurnished. There were scratches on the wall in that same childish print he found in the note. Though this time it read:

_LEAve nOw dE ChAgNy._

After that Raoul was infuriated. It was clear to him that someone wanted him gone and he had the sneaky suspicions it had to deal with his father. He confronted him about it and his father told Raoul he would never do such an act to anyone, not even kin. The last remark made them both uncomfortable and Raoul didn't question him further on it.

He tried to stay away from what the others might say if they knew they're manager was being threatened. But he couldn't escape from one woman who had close ties to the theatre—Adele Garrison.

He had never met a woman quite like her ever in his life. She was the ballet mistress there since the reopening and never left her post when everyone else was leaving at the time of the missing chorus girls. She helped advise Raoul in running the theatre when he first came and then she took her leave to do her job. They never had reason to speak to each other again, except when Raoul was experiencing difficulties with the ghost.

He knew that Adele's ties with the Garnier ran back into the very first opening as her great-great grandmother, Antoinette Giry, worked there as the first ballet mistress. There were stories of her possibly linked to the Phantom, but it could never be proven. Marguerite Giry, formerly known as Meg, became the Prima Ballerina until she married and became a Baroness. One of her children returned to the opera house and took up the position of ballet mistress and since then her family had always had a part in the ballet or rebuilding when it was necessary.

Adele found out about his vandalized office and right away had a word with him. She knew who was responsible for it and when she told Raoul he had a good laugh until he was quickly silence from her famous cold stares. Adele informed him it would be in his best interests he shouldn't take the matter lightly. The Phantom was one figure that shouldn't be messed with for it was a fool's errand to mess with life and death.

She told Raoul she liked him from the moment they met and would hate to see anything happen to him. So Adele had Raoul write out that he means no harm to _him _and that he would agree to any _ideas _that _he _should come up with. Raoul did it to humor her and Adele placed the letter by Christine Daae's dressing room. Raoul was with her when she did this and both witnessed the letter being sucked up from under the door.

Never again had Raoul questioned Adele and both fell into a comfortable friendship. Peace with the Phantom was settled and all that remained was to find a leading lady.

Raoul found Maria Giovanni by chance of luck. Philip invited him to a party and there the Italian singer sang to the guests. Right there Raoul knew he found the right soprano for the Garnier. She had a decent voice, easy on the ears, but she lacked the feeling in the music. But she was well known and at the moment that's all that mattered.

Maria was thrilled to be part of the Garnier as her idol Carlotta Giudicelli sang there. She was hired right away but there came some demands that had to be followed if she were to sing.

First off, her understudy had to go. She would accept no other except her cousin, Catarina Giovanni. Secondly, she demanded for any leave time if she should wish it. And lastly, she wanted someone to attend to her parrot Carlotta.

Two of the three requests were done. Catarina became her understudy (the first one was bumped back into chorus with a raise) and she had her time off whenever she wanted, as long as it didn't jeopardize a show.

Raoul felt terrible about firing the understudy, but the girl didn't mind it as much when she was offered the raise. All he wanted was to keep the peace and he did so successfully.

The next several years passed and Raoul didn't have much trouble with the Phantom until recently. Maria did a wonderful job despite she was a bitch to the other cast members. Cat wasn't quite as bad as her cousin, though both women possessed the same fiery temper. She was a few years younger than Maria and _far _lovelier.

Yet when the Phantom began to mess with Maria, both women quit. Maria was superstitious so it didn't take much for her to run off and Cat left in fear the same would happen to her.

Losing his prime singers didn't make Raoul's day so it was then Adele recommend he should take a vacation to settle his nerves.

There comes New York and in enters Christine Dawson.

A rap came at the door and Raoul admitted in Adele. The older woman came in and took a seat.

Raoul took a moment to study her. She was stern with the girls, but with him only if he deserved it. It was surprising that after he was threatened, Adele became like a second mother to him. _A better one_, he thought. He took delight in the relationship they created for each other and wouldn't change it for the world. There was more to the hard-hearted woman then she lets on to be, and he always took advantage to show she was like any other human being.

It was then he noticed a few silver streaks beginning to show through her honey-brown hair. He couldn't resist.

"So Adele, come across any ghosts lately? You looked like you had quite a fright."

"Oh, M. de Chagny, I never dare venture into places haunted by tales."

Even though, she insisted everyone to call her Adele she could never do the same to her colleagues. No matter how many countless times Raoul asked her to use his first name, she insisted on formalities on her part.

Raoul chuckled. "It's unlike you Adele to let your age show through. How else can I explain that my love is much younger than me?"

"Me? Ha! You wish sir but keep up with the old jokes and I'll whack you to Kingdom come." She smirked, crossing her leg over.

Raoul put on a wounded look. "Ouch. No doubt you'll will. Apologies Madame."

Adele glared at him and he quickly sobered. "Right. What's wrong Adele? You usually don't mind a little playful banter."

She sighed. "I've been thinking of Christine Dawson. She's good, I understand, but this is far different from what she's used to sing."

"What does Roberts say?" Raoul asked, flexing his shoulder.

"Roberts has no problem with her. Didn't he leave you a memo about it?"

"Yeah I got it. So there's no problem, I know she can do this. She has the energy and potential. There's nothing for you to worry about Adele."

Adele raised an eyebrow. "You're not saying this because she's pretty, huh?"

"What? Adele please! I learned my lesson from last time and I don't want to go down that road again. Besides, she might have a boyfriend back in New York."

"Meg didn't tell me she had one…"

Raoul's face blushed a deep shade of red. "Okay, I'll admit she's attractive looking, but we're going to remain on professional terms."

"You sound like she's already made a move on you." Now she was teasing.

"Adele," Raoul groaned. "If this has to do with my lack of a love life then don't. I'm not going to get involve with any of singers and that's it. You act like I'm in love with her already."

Adele snorted. "You had to see it from my point of view when you two were introduced to each other. But I'm not saying anything. You say you don't have an interest in her, okay. Then she probably doesn't have an interest in you."

"Why? Did she say she didn't?" Catching her grin, Raoul cleared his throat and looked away. "Don't say a word Adele."

"I won't. Have you been down to the rehearsals yet? I know you don't normally do, but I think you should bend your own rules this once. Who knows what could happen—"

The door flew opened as a woman came busting through. She was panting heavily from running, her wavy black tresses sticking to her sweaty face, as her almond-shaped olive green eyes darted from Adele to Raoul. Her ivory complexion became beet red as she fixated on him.

Raoul gulped.

TBC…

Next chapter starts the excitement! Please don't forget to review you guys! Remember, any comments are welcome, as long as they're not "I hate this and I hate you" flames. If you don't like it then don't review. But if you do please and any suggestions are welcome! I want to make this as well as I possibly can.


	6. Chp 5: The New Marguerite

A/N: I'm glad that many like the little twist I threw in about Raoul hating his great-great grandfather. Frankly, I don't like him period, but the future one is of my own design and he's way cooler I think. Thank you all for your reviews and to my beta Megan! Now… let the trouble began…

**Chapter 5- The New Marguerite**

"Cat?"

Raoul couldn't believe that the one woman he hoped he would never see again after breaking his heart was once more standing in his office, but this time in a fit of rage.

She stomped over, slamming a fist on his desk, causing both him and Adele to jump in their seats.

"What's this about a new singer!" Cat barked her voice laced in her thick accent from her anger. "Well? Aren't you going to speak?"

Raoul swallowed thickly as he managed to put on a smile. "Nice to see you to Cat." _Smooth._

"Don't you give me 'nice to see you to Cat' crap with me! I want to know—did you or did you not hire a new girl?"

"Why does it matter to you? You left," Adele snickered.

Cat glared daggers at her, and Adele returned it in full, making the girl cower back. It didn't matter how tough Catarina Giovanni was, no one could ever stand up to Adele Garrison. It was an impossible feat.

She turned back to Raoul, her eyes lowering to slits, her voice growing low as she snarled, "Did you hire a new girl?"

For a second, Raoul forgot how to breathe. The same vivacious and bold woman that won him over was inches away from his face, her hot breath washing over his skin. Once more, Raoul felt like he was nothing but clay in her hands and he would gladly do whatever she wanted. His sanity was saved, thanks to Adele, who answered strongly, "Yes".

Snapping back to reality, he watched, as Cat's lips puckered in like a fish's before she bellowed out in a high-pitch screech, "WHAT?" deafening Raoul and Adele. "WHY on EARTH would YOU!"

Raoul was positive that all the dogs in the city were barking and howling in the streets. "Cat, there's no need to raise your voice," he said, trying to quieted her. "What did you expect me to do? You and your cousin walked out. We _needed _a singer."

Her eyelids rapidly fluttered open and closed, her breaths coming in short quick pants. He was afraid she was about to have a seizure any second.

"You could have WAITED!" she shouted. "Maria was traumatized after that encounter in her apartment! I was doing my best to make sure there was nothing severely permanent from it."

Raoul shifted to his side uncomfortably, glancing at Adele for interference. The older woman chuckled and mouthed, "She's all yours."

Standing up, Adele excused herself. "While you two work things out, I'm going to overlook the rehearsals. Good-bye M. de Chagny."

Raoul could have sworn that infuriated woman was laughing out in the hallway. His fists clenched nervously, swallowing excessively to get rid of the dryness in his mouth. This wasn't going to be pretty, that he knew, and that was because this was Cat. Had it been any other singer, Raoul could have handled the situation much better and be done in a couple of minutes. But Cat wasn't your ordinary singer. Like her cousin, she was a born Prima Donna.

Mumbling in Italian, Cat threw herself down in the chaise. Her lip stuck out, in a there God, a pout. She flicked her thick eyelashes at him as her lips quivered. "Raoul, I'm so crushed that you would do this… to us. You replaced Maria like it was the easiest thing to do! Did you ever stopped to think how this would make your leads feel? Lead and understudy? Maria was in tears when she heard about this slut from New York…"

"Okay stop Cat," Raoul interrupted. "First of all, Christine Dawson is _not _a slut. She's a fine performer on stage and has a very lovely voice. I hired her because she's just _as good _as you and Maria. And if Maria is so upset, well, than what you want me to do? She left and so did _you_."

"Yeah but you don't honestly think I would leave for good, now do you?" Cat asked, crossing her legs over so her shorts could rise up. "Come on Raoul. Tell me."

Raoul drew in a shaky breath. _By God she's trying to seduce me! Be strong de Chagny. She's not what you thought she was. She used you and she's trying to use you again. Don't get your hopes high. She wants nothing to do with you. **NOTHING**!_

Licking his lips, the next words that flew out of Raoul's mouth was completely shocking to himself and her, "Signora Giovanni, do I have to remind you that kind of behavior isn't allowed in my theatre? Either you cover yourself up or take your cheap self out and bug some other owner. I'm not going to tolerate this from you if you can't handle this professionally."

Cat's jaw dropped. "Raoul! You gained some backbone. How lovely," she replied sardonically. "Happy?" Cat pressed her legs straight against the chair and pulled down her shorts. "There I'm decent."

"Thank you," he answered curtly. "To be honest Cat, I didn't think you would come back. And hypothetically if I did it wouldn't matter. I would have gone off to find some other girl."

She sighed loudly. "Sure you would. Like any girl can replace a Giovanni."

"Christine can and she did."

"Then she probably had her reasons."

Groaning, Raoul leaned back, grabbing the ends of his hair. "Cat enough of that! She's not like you if that what's bothering you."

"I can't believe you said that!" Cat cried, feigning her hurt. "Is that what you think I was doing? God Raoul… I told you this wouldn't have worked out."

"Only because I wouldn't do what you wanted. My company wasn't enough for your greedy ambitions," he sneered. "I get it. It's okay. I thought we had something special and I was wrong. No big deal like this is no big deal."

"This is too a big deal!" Cat protested. "This is an insult to Maria and I! Two professional singers being thrown to the side for some amateur? I don't think so!"

"She's not some amateur I picked up from a street corner Cat," Raoul gritted between his teeth. "She's been on the stage, she knows how it works, and she has a history in music like you and Maria."

"Have it ever occurred to you that perhaps Maria had her own idea of an replacement?" Upon saying this, Cat held out her hand examining her nails. She lifted an eyebrow as she looked up into Raoul's startled visage. "Well?"

Unsure if he heard her correctly, Raoul asked, "Maria had what?"

"A replacement," answered Cat. "Maria feels I should be the one to take on Marguerite. As former Prima Donna I think Maria has the first say."

Raoul shook his head in disbelief. _Where's Adele when you need her? _"Cat…"

"I know I know. It's all too sudden for me to say or her, but everyone knew that I would take over for her one day. It was a matter of time."

"Yeah if you stayed on. But you didn't," Raoul pointed out, exasperated.

"What did you expect me to do?" she scoffed. "Maria was being threatened and you know how superstitious she is. Imagine her scared out of her wits because the Phantom decided she was no good to the theatre anymore. Not only was that insulting and damaging to her pride, but add on the fact she was _nearly _killed in her sleep! I only walked out because it was respect and honor to my family. If I remained I would have thrown everything in her face and would have been expelled from the Giovanni name."

"Sorry Cat. That was your decision not mine. My answer is still going to be the same."

"Could I at least audition? To you or Roberts? I bet the old man doesn't even like taking on a newbie."

"For your information, Roberts likes Mlle Dawson. If you don't believe me here's his note." Raoul took the memo and handed it to Cat.

She distastefully glanced at it and threw it behind her back. "Oh he thinks she's a pleasure. All right she won over the senile conductor. If I remember correctly I was always his favorite."

Raoul snorted. "You did enough sucking up by telling him how youthful and handsome he looks everyday. And he never considered you a favorite. Hell, no one here is his favorite not even me and I'm his boss. So don't try to peg the old man in your plot."

"Then may I listen to her? Christine Dawson that is."

He gave her a blank look. "Pardon?"

"You know. Can I go down to rehearsals and hear this girl? I have no doubt that you're right and she's good, but I would do much better if I could witness this on my own. That way I know you're not being deceived."

_Should I? Or I'm I inviting more trouble? _Raoul looked at the hopefulness in her crystal clear olive green eyes. _It's only to listen. How bad could that be anyways? You have got to stop reading so much into this de Chagny. No wonder you're being so paranoid. _

"All right. But afterwards I want you to leave. And for the record, Cat, don't ever bust down my door again. You're not a little girl anymore and that behavior doesn't suit a woman your age."

The last comment made her growl in contempt. Raoul did his best to hide his mirth. _This confrontation wasn't as bad as I thought._

xxXXxx

Christine was sitting down with Meg during a short break when Raoul entered through the side with a woman at his heels. She was pretty but Christine could tell from the distance she was peeved about something.

She poked at Meg and nodded to the dark-haired woman. "Who's that?"

Meg looked up and sighed. "That'll be Catarina Giovanni, Maria's cousin. I wouldn't worry if I were you. M. de Chagny won't hire her. You're the best the Garnier has ever had and I doubt he will be willing to part with you. And also they're not on the best of terms."

"So why is she here?" Christine asked.

Meg shrugged. "Beat's me."

"Psst! Didn't you hear?" Jamie came sliding over. "Cat wants Christine's part!"

"And how do you know Jamie?" Meg inquired.

"I overheard their conversation. What? I didn't mean to eavesdrop. It sort of happened when I was walking by his office."

"And what were you doing near his office?" Meg asked sweetly. She looked over to Christine with a smirk and then back to the teen.

"Oh I was… you know. Is that Felicity calling me? Talk to you two later!"

Jamie jumped up and ran off to the group of huddled dancers. Meg rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "By now you should know nothing gets by Miss Nosy."

Christine laughed. "You can say that again."

"Hey look now. Looks like your boyfriend is going to make an announcement of some sort."

"He's not my boyfriend Meg," she retorted.

"Yeah right and I'm the reincarnation of Marie Antoinette."

The American chuckled quietly as she looked over to the stage. The woman that came in with Raoul was far off to the side with some pleased appearance across her face. She didn't have much time to think on it as he started to speak.

But Christine wasn't listening to what the boss was saying to the company. Her eyes were on him all right, but not in an attentive way. Meg's teasing about him being her boyfriend came into mind and she thought about it. _Is there a chance? Naa. Don't get your hopes up Christine. He's probably into girls with classy style than you. There's nothing you have that he would want so it's best to think of him as a potential friend and nothing more. _

But how it was that simple! Just from where he stood, the lights from above hit him in that right direction. His honey blonde hair was slightly ruffled and his turquoise eyes glistened as he spoke. He was so incredibly handsome that if Heather were here she would dub him as the "Number 1 Hottie of the Week". _Yeah and if Heather were here she would be pouncing on him. _

The image flitted across her mind, eliciting a girlish giggle. She never was the type to drool over a man but Raoul de Chagny was a special exception. She wondered if it had anything to do with him being French and being in the city of romance and all. But if she were to say no if he asked her out, than Heather would surely have her head when she returned.

While her thoughts traveled, she failed to notice Catarina Giovanni slipped away behind one of the sets.

Then came Meg's turn to nudge her. "Earth to Dawson. M. de Chagny wants you to sing _The Jewel Song_ now."

"What?" she said still half-dazed from her thoughts.

"_The Jewel Song_. He wants to hear you sing the aria as a little audition of some sort. Probably Cat was upset to hear about you being here and wanted to put in her own input to your singing. Make sure you kill the song."

"Um right." Cursing under her breath, Christine she stood up and headed over to where Raoul stood. All eyes were glued on her as she nervously looked up into Raoul's friendly orbs.

"Good luck Christine," he whispered, his voice making her knees weak.

She watched as he went off to the side to stand by Adele. When he took his spot, Cat came over to stand next to him, her arms crossed over as she smugly smirked.

Christine looked away and into M. Roberts down at the pit. She nodded once as the music began.

Taking a deep breath, the words poured forth from her lips as a soft, darker voice whispered in her ear, _"Make them weep."_

_"Ah! Je ris de me voir_

_Si belle en ce miroir,_

_Ah! Je ris de me voir_

_Si belle en ce miroir,_

_Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?"_

As the song continued, Christine became confident and let her voice soar throughout the theatre. This was what she always wanted. At last, she was doing a role her mother played and in this grand of a theatre no doubt. _I hope you're listening Mom and Daddy. I hope I'm making you proud._

From the corner of her eye, she saw Adele wiping a tear away and Raoul with a large smile on his face. Cat glared at her, giving Christine the go ahead to show she was worth the part.

Focusing on the audience, she sang out Marguerite's joy. Closing her eyes, she gently swayed.

"_Dieu! C'est comme une main,_

_Qui sur mon bras se pose! Ah! Ah!"_

As the song started to grow to the end, Christine decided to stun them all by throwing in a crescendo. As she sang the last note, Christine looked up and right away something was wrong.

She watched a swift dark figure run across the rafters just as a scene above her began rattling. Christine froze, her mouth hanging open, as the scene was suddenly falling down. It was heading towards her.

Her brown eyes grew frighteningly wide. _Move! _She practically screamed but she remained paralyzed. Christine squeezed her eyelids tightly shut as it made impact.

An acute pain sprung up her leg making her cry out. She felt rather heard a crackling snap and prayed to let it be over soon.

_Wait… Pain? _Christine opened her eyes and stared up into the alarmed countenance of Raoul's. _What Raoul? _

"Oh my God Christine! Are you all right?" His blue eyes roved over her, checking for any damage. When they settled on her ankle, he pulled back. "Christine! Your ankle!"

She looked down and winced. Now she knew where the source was coming from. Her ankle was turning a purplish-blue and as his hand barely touched it, she leapt back yelping.

"Adele get a doctor now!" Raoul barked. The ballet mistress nodded, already taking off.

Meg was over by her side in seconds, panting. "Christine!"

"If you haven't been pushed out of the way Christine you could have—" began Jamie.

Meg shot her a look that made Jamie close her mouth. "She's alive that's all that matters Jamie."

Christine didn't hear the two bicker, she was still shaken up and stunned from what happened. The set was sprawled across the stage in the spot where she stood moments ago. Breathing hard, she knew she had come close to be stuck under that. _Dead_, she thought and shuddered violently.

Christine gazed up at Raoul who was cursing and yelling at the gathering cast members to stay away. _He saved me… _She blinked at the realization. _My God he saved me! _

He then was by right her, lifting her back up tenderly almost as if he was afraid to cause any more damage. His concern made Christine blush uncontrollably and her mind to erase all coherencies of thoughts. She didn't realize her unabashed staring until Raoul looked at her, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips. Christine tried to return his smile, but at the moment her body decided to let her know the excruciating agony she was in.

Christine hissed her lids clamped shut at the sudden pang of waves hit her. In all her life, Christine never broken anything and at the moment she wished someone would put her out of her misery. Tears pricked her doe eyes as she tried to put up a brave front. She never been in this type of pain before and she wanted it to end soon.

Then softly, she heard a sweet low voice humming to her. She stopped moving as the unnamed melody clouded her senses, the pain slowly numbing. Never had she heard anything like it! In her head, the volume picked up blocking her surroundings. A tingling sensation flooded her body, her heart pace quicken, as the true seductive nature of the voice seemed to raise her soul.

Christine felt herself falling in utter bliss. She could feel nothing. Nothing could touch her or bring her harm.

Sadly, the good feelings faded and when she looked down, she saw her hand tightly clasped in Raoul's.

Swallowing, she timidly faced him. His piercing blue eyes bored into hers, an unreadable expression passing through them.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What?" Christine's brow furrowed in confusion.

"If I didn't asked you to… you wouldn't be…" his voice trailed off as Joseph Brolin came out on the stage. "Excuse me."

Standing up, Raoul rushed over to the older man, a furious rage gripping him. "What the HELL happened up there! Brolin were you paying any attention? You could have killed Mlle Dawson!"

Brolin staggered back. "A-apologizes Monsieur. I swear it was an accident!"

"Weren't the ropes checked?" Raoul spat.

Brolin nodded. "Aye but it wasn't my fault sir! I was gone from my post for a couple of seconds when the scene fell."

"Then who could have dropped it? The _Phantom_?" Raoul viciously hurled out. "Because of your irresponsibility my leading lady has a broken ankle!"

"But I would have never bring any harm to the lass sir," Brolin said. "She's a good singer."

"Well, thank you for your input!" Raoul snapped. "Get this mess clean up now or you're fired, understand me? GO!"

Brolin stumbled away. Raoul's shoulders sagged low, shaking his head.

"Um… Raoul!" Cat crept over to him, tapping his shoulder. "Look, I know this is bad timing, but what are you going to now that she's indisposed?"

"Bitch," Meg muttered. Christine looked up at her in surprised, but the blonde continued. "She hasn't changed from the last time she was here. If I would have known better…"

"Meg, I'm all right. It's just a broken ankle. It'll heal before the show," Christine told her, hoping she was right.

Meg shook her head. "I don't know Christine." She glared at the Italian. "Something doesn't smell right."

But she didn't have time to elaborate on it as the opera doctor ran over to the brunette.

"I'm sorry Mademoiselle," he said. "We need to take you to the hospital."

"But—"

"I'll take her," Meg offered.

Meg's arm wrapped around Christine's waist and hoisted her up with Adele helping her. "Don't worry, child. It's nothing serious. Happens all the time," Adele assured her.

_Yeah maybe only to the dancers_, Christine thought unhappily. As she was being carried out, Christine looked back to see Cat floating away. She had a triumphed smirk plastered on her lips.

Looking up at Raoul, he couldn't face Christine, but she saw his defeated façade. _Oh God no! He didn't…_

He did.

xxXXxx

_C'mon. Where the hell is he? _Cat thought impatiently, her toe tapping on the floor. She checked her watch and scowled. _Late. Hurry up you lazy bastard._

"Signora."

She looked up, her jaded eyes narrowed. "You're late," she said flatly.

Brolin sighed. "I had to clean up remember?"

Cat shrugged. "Doesn't matter. If you weren't here in another minute I would have walked out."

"Just give me my bloody money!" he growled.

"Here." Cat handed him a wad of bills. "Nice I must say. Now that she's out of the picture for the time being I have my chance."

"Yeah," Brolin grumbled, counting his money. "I'm curious. Why did you want her out?"

"Look, I put four years of my life into this theatre as understudy. _Understudy_. Now, that should cover up your pitiful debt. Do not breathe a word to anyone, got it?"

Brolin rolled his eyes. "I know Signora. Old Brolin never goes back on his promises."

Cat eyed him. "Good."

Both parted soon after, Catarina Giovanni glowing and Brolin relieved another debt paid off. But also both were glad that no one would ever know of their arrangement.

At least that's what they thought.

TBC…

Please review if you're reading this!


	7. Chp 6: The Message

A/N: Hi everyone! This week had been so busy for me with tests, papers, and quizzes filling up my schedule that seeing some reviews would make my day. And I'm sure some EC fans will be happy to know there's an encounter between the two. And it's not the last, only the beginning. :D

I'm sure that it's obvious that our Carlotta is Cat. I hate her to. Well, every dog has their day I'm afraid but when or where you need to stick around for. Thank you again for the wonderful reviews and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 6- The Message**

"_You must make your choice! The wedding or the requiem mass!"_

"_I have turned the scorpion!"_

_Violin playing, singing, and screams._

"_The grasshopper jumps mighty high!"_

"_I promise!" _

_Darkness follows silence._

Christine started as the new images flew through her mind until nothing more. Her hands went into her curls as she got her breathing under control.

She shook her head and looked out into the pouring rain from outside her window. "Damn."

Christine threw off her covers and grasped for her crutches that were propped up next to the bed. Setting her left foot down she eased her cast right after and used the crutches to push herself up. Holding the bars Christine maneuvered her way out and into the kitchen, making less noise as possible.

Ever since she was stuck with the crutches, Christine needed help for the little things—opening doors, carrying items, and getting anything from the high shelves. Never had she felt so helpless and useless. The only good thing was the sweet notes and signatures of her friends on her cast.

_But it prevents me from my job_, she thought bitterly. She grabbed her cup from earlier and filled it up with water. Christine greedily drained it down and returned it under the faucet for another drink. Once it was filled, she hopped over to the table, placing the crutches on the floor quietly so she could sit. Sipping her water, she thought about her recent visit from her visions.

She would be lying to say they hadn't affected her on some level. More than ever they had become vivid, too real for her comfort, especially the last one. For the most part, they were only voices—male and female. She recognized the latter as her own but the other was a mystery. Despite the pain and lunacy etched in it, the former had a tinge of dark beauty. If he had been serenading her, Christine could have easily been entranced. The absurdity of the last thought, made her smile and shake her head. _How ridiculous. I'm swooning over an enigma. _

Pushing it aside, Christine thought back to the accident that cost her Marguerite. A few weeks passed since that day. And they were miserable.

Cat was indeed what she was—a cat, so sly and unpredictable. She knew there was a reason why she wasn't a cat person and this was a perfect example. Catarina Giovanni was jealous and spoiled. Before she couldn't have her way and now Christine had to pay the piper so Cat could take over. _How convenient for her._

And it was. If Christine thought better, she could have swore this had to be some kind of setup. But what were the odds Cat knew of her prior to the incident? No one would believe her anyhow. She wasn't a rich little hussy that only one cry could make the world fall at her feet. It sickened her and more so that Raoul replaced her with that woman!

She understood until she was healed, they needed someone to take over for the time being. But Cat? And worse of all, she had a past with the owner, which could be taken to accounting. That is, if there was still electricity between the two.

Meg told her everything that occurred between the two including the heartache break-up. Thinking of Cat wrapped in Raoul's arms repulsed her and the type of relationship they might have had filled her with green. Simply seeing them in the same room made Christine want to throw up. The Italian wasn't good enough for him. She wondered if he might still have feelings for her…

When it came to relationships, Christine made a few mistakes in men she went out with. What if Raoul was the sort of fellow that couldn't let go of some illusion? From what Meg said, Raoul was smitten with Cat the moment they met. Maybe Cat wasn't a bad person once one got to know her like Raoul must have done. There had to be something about her that made him loved her. He wasn't a knucklehead so he couldn't be tricked easily by flashy looks and flirtatious talk, unless he was the candidate for "blinded by love". But they were together for nearly two years and feelings couldn't be completely doused so soon. How could she compete with former feelings?

"Then again, what makes you think he would want you? You're a real dreamer Christine Dawson," she said to herself.

Since she wasn't allowed to move so much on her ankle, Christine wasn't able to go to the Garnier like she would have hoped. Despite her not able to practice, she still rehearsed her part in the apartment with Meg like nothing happened. Meg once remarked that Christine knew the role better than Cat. Plus, Christine was pleasant to hear.

_Well, I hope I know it well. Mom played Marguerite and I practically grew up with _Faust, she thought.

But if Cat thought she beat her, she was far from it. Christine wasn't going to let anything stop her from doing the role she was meant to do. She was going to have a talk with de Chagny the next morning. When the cast was off, Christine would take her place whether or not if Signora Giovanni liked it. She would make sure that this was clear to him.

She downed the rest of her water and went to put it back on the counter. Once the glass sat down, the room quickly grew cold. Goose bumps coursed through her flesh and she shivered, as her pajamas weren't the best cover. Her hand was still wound around the cup, but she couldn't let go.

Looking down, she saw a hand over hers. Her eyes widened as she felt something press against her backside, pinning her petite frame against the counter. Wetting her lips, she tried assuring herself she was alone and it had to be some dream. Yes that's what it was. She must have fallen asleep at the table and this was a dream. Any minute she would wake.

She closed her eyes and waited but nothing happened. Opening one eye, she saw that pale hand still over hers. It was much bigger and strong looking that the owner could crush her own if he wished it. But what caught her attention was how translucent it was against her warm, peachy colored one. She had to stifle a gasp as the long, slender fingers began to gently caress her with extreme care like she was made out of glass.

She trembled in the chilling embrace, not sure whether she should scream or remain passive. But the next thing she knew, it had vanished.

Whirling around, Christine found herself alone in the empty kitchen. Still shaking, she let go of the glass and slowly walked out. Scanning the living room, she found no signs of another being here recently. Meg's door was slightly ajar and taking a deep breath, Christine went inside.

The moonlight streamed down on Meg's countenance, which her sleep didn't seem to be disturbed. Looking around, Christine made sure they were in fact alone before making her way out.

Closing the door, the brunette held her crutches tightly to her side. Did she imagine it all? She must have but Christine wasn't able to convince herself.

The apartment no longer was cold but it didn't calm her nerves. When she was trapped in the kitchen with that invisible body, Christine had oddly enough found it comforting and arousing. And that terrified her.

xxXXxx

"Do you want me or Maman to go in there with you? It wouldn't be a problem."

"Naah Meg. I can handle this myself. I'm a big girl after all," Christine laughed. "But thanks for the offer."

Meg smiled. "No problem. Tell the jerk you mean business."

"Don't worry I will." She winked.

They approached de Chagny's office door and before Christine knocked, Meg tugged on her sleeve gently.

"Christine, about this morning. I know bad time to bring it up, but you looked awful. Or you sure everything is all right? If you're not then this isn't a good idea and I'll take you home. You can always talk to him some other day."

Christine sighed. "Trust me it was nothing. I'm fine. Don't worry about me Meg. Besides, I had another bad dream that's all."

"You've been having a lot of bad dreams lately." It wasn't just a statement it was also a suspicious remark.

She didn't reply. Christine wasn't all together ready to tell Meg the truth, whether if she should or shouldn't. She knocked on his door twice before going inside without giving Meg another glimpse.

Inside she found Raoul typing away in frenzy, his jaw set in determined concentration.

"Um, M. de Chagny?"

He looked up startled. Seeing Christine, he relaxed as a boyish grin broke out across his solemn expression. "Ah! Christine Dawson. Good morning. How's your ankle?"

"It's better now, thank you." Christine returned his smile as she took a seat. "The doctor said I should be getting the cast off soon. Luckily, I didn't damage it too badly. In fact, he said if I continue to lay off it for a while longer I would be able to come back."

"Oh… I see." Raoul averted his attention away from Christine back to his computer.

Christine frowned at this. _What got into him all of a sudden? _"I'm sorry but am I missing something here?"

"What do you mean?" he questioned innocently.

She waved her hands. "This. I said I would be able to come back and you go, 'Oh I see'. Did I miss some kind of signal?"

"Christine…" he started.

"It's Mlle Dawson," Christine corrected coldly. "You were saying."

Raoul sighed, running a hand through his flaxen hair. "I'm sorry for what happened. Really I am. But until you're well…"

"I **am **well!" Christine blurted out angrily. "So this was a minor setback. I'm not completely worthless."

"I know that!" Raoul shot back. "It's just… Christine…"

He caught "Dawson" mumbled under her breath and said, "All right Mlle Dawson. I didn't want to do this either but I had no choice. When the star is incapable to perform for the time being then we must have a replacement. The show must go on."

"Yes the show must go on but her? I have a bad feeling about her sir and…"

He cut her off with a short laugh. "Mlle Dawson, I've known Catarina for four years now. Tell me something I don't know."

"Okay but don't you think that accident was too… what's the word? Fortuitously perhaps?"

"Christine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well? Think about it. I sang and a set comes this close from squashing me."

"Do you honestly think that Cat had something to do with it? Listen to yourself! She's a goddamn professional singer! She's not that capable to come up with something like that on the spot. Besides, like I said, I knew her for some time and believe me when I say that Cat will never intentionally harm someone. And she has no reason to hurt you. You two hardly know each other and already you're at each other's throats."

"Excuse me for thinking about my close-death encounter. And of course, how terrible of me to accuse her of my misfortune," Christine replied sardonically. "But what I really would like to know is what will happen when I can get on that stage to sing? You can't have two Marguerites. One of us has to be the understudy."

"I know," he answered. "And I thought about it. I'm sure you know very well that my position isn't the best when it comes to situations like these. Having to choose from two talented singers is difficult."

Christine nodded. "I understand that M. de Chagny, I do. And I know I must sound like some selfish child right now but—"

He held his hand up to silence her. "Your actions are justified. But this is not easy for me to say this. Christine you have a lovely voice and I'm glad to see you put such talent to good use."

Christine could feel her heart sinking. Without knowing, she had a good idea where this was going to lead. She forced a tiny smile and nodded. _Don't cry girl. Don't cry. _

"But there's more to it than a pretty voice, you understand. It's the people attending I must think of as well. Cat is well known. Her cousin is a popular opera singer and basically everyone around has heard of the 'Giovanni Girls'. She has a name that will pull people into the theatre."

"And I can't do that?" She accidentally let the disappointment slipped through.

"I didn't mean it in that way," Raoul spoke softly. "The last thing I would want to do is to hurt you."

"I-I know," Christine's voice shook. _Look at yourself! You're not a little kid anymore. Why can't you take this easily? _Humiliated, Christine lowered her face so she wouldn't have to look into his eyes. She wasn't sure how long she could last if she had to stare into those puppy blue eyes.

Raoul felt horrible. He hated to bring down this girl's hopes and dreams. Christine Dawson was unlike any person he ever met. He knew she was the sort that couldn't harm a flea without apologizing. And that made him feel all the more like an ass. _She has every right to hate you know._

Getting up, he walked around so he was in front of her. Gently, he placed his finger under her chin and lifted her up so he could look at her.

If he had felt worse moments ago then this added on the guilt. He could see how hard she was trying to keep her emotions in check. Her large brown eyes were wide with anguish, and her bottom lip slightly quaked. _Look what you did you heartless man. You're no better than **him**_.

He knew she was the better choice. If someone were to ask him would it be her or Cat, he would have chosen Christine without another thought. But this didn't concern his feelings alone. He wasn't lying when he said he had to think about the patrons as well. They were the huge part in this game. And he had to deliver what they want most. And the public loves the Giovanni's.

"I don't want to lose you," Raoul said. He paused realizing how cliché it had sounded and how it could be taken to mean another thing. But he didn't want to lose Christine Dawson, not that he had her here. And maybe he was also acting selfish too, but he didn't want this girl to go anytime soon.

"Until then, you're going to be Cat's understudy. She maybe not be too happy about that, but I have the final say. And if down the line something doesn't go right for Cat then you'll take her place."

"Okay." It wasn't what she wanted, but it was something. At least she knew she wouldn't be leaving for New York anytime soon. "Thank you for your time… Raoul."

He smiled and helped her out the door. Raoul leaned against the doorframe watching Christine go. _She never ceases to amaze me_.

Christine caught up with Meg, Jamie, and Stacey standing outside by the dressing rooms. As soon as she got over there, they jumped her with questions.

"How did it go?"

"Is Cat leaving?"

"You're not returning to New York, are you?" (Courtesy of Jamie)

Christine told them what they discussed and his decision.

"I know it's not what I had thought," Christine confessed. "But it's something. And I do get to stay so that's a big plus."

"Yeah but I would have stayed until I made sure I got my lead part back," Stacey interjected. "If that bitch tried to take my job there will be Hell to pay."

"What makes you think anyone would want your job?" Meg asked. She turned to Christine. "Are you sure this will be all right?"

"Yeah. Who knows what the future might hold for me. My mother used to tell me that 'Good things come to those who wait' and I have the patience for it. Though, I'm not sure if I can say the same for Cat Giovanni."

xxXXxx

Cat twirled around in the middle of her dressing room, giddiness and triumph exploding within. Finally… finally she was the star of the show! And the best part was that she got away with it too. Had it been Maria she wouldn't have been so fortunate.

She giggled uncontrollably and spun around once more for good measure. The dressing room was formerly Maria's and it was such a beautiful one that she put to waste. But not Cat.

Within the a couple of days, she made herself right at home by hanging up some paintings and pictures on the walls, and throwing in some candles and room scents. Maria simply ruined it by leaving the walls dull in its crimson pattern. The only thing lively in it was that blasted parrot of hers. And how Cat hated Carlotta! If it wasn't bad enough, Maria was in the midst of teaching her to sing.

_Too bad she's dead_, Cat thought, a wicked grin plastered on her face. She didn't know who killed the bird, but whoever did it she was thankful for taking that wretched creature out of her side. Cat wasn't sure how long she could have put up with that inferno squawking before she did the deed herself. And also, it started the clock for Maria's leave. A few threatening notes sent to her, missing costumes, etc, and the tip of the iceberg had been the "murder" attempt. It had been perfect for her.

But she couldn't relish in her victory when Maria walked out the doors. It would have been improper after all those years of sucking up to become Maria's favorite cousin.

It had been grueling, but at the end it was worth the prize.

When Raoul asked Maria to work at the Garnier, Cat thought it would never be possible. For as long as she could remember, Cat wanted to sing on stage. But Maria had been the one with the connections to get such a dream to come true. So in order to obtain that status, she remained by her dear cousin's side offering as much help as she could. She was positively delighted when Maria requested that she should be her understudy. It was a start, of course, but Cat had been fortunate enough on a couple of occasions to take over for Maria.

Those times were unlike anything Cat experienced. Being the one that all adored and admired, she knew she had to have more. Her goal to be Prima Donna became a driven target for her. Nothing could stop her from getting that position. Except Maria.

The first year was very long. Cat performed some minor roles and did take Maria's place that time. But when it came to something she really wanted, Catarina Giovanni had no patience.

Yet, she believed she found the incentive to be on top. And that had been Raoul de Chagny.

Since they were hired, Cat recognized his apparent attraction to her. What man couldn't? They had their moments when they flirted on and off at work, but neither she nor he made the first move. At first it had to do with that he wasn't her type of guy. He was cute, yes, but Cat wanted more. But when Cat began to realize that if she didn't take the chance she might still be stuck as understudy. Raoul was her ticket to being the lead and protocol was needed.

So they dated for the next two years. She picked on up his silly feelings for her from the start and had tried to use them for her advantage. But he had to be noble and tell her he wanted to maintain a professional relationship at the Garnier. This wasn't what she had planned for, but Cat did try to gain some special privileges that only fell flat through. Raoul de Chagny knew his beliefs and he stuck by them unconditionally.

But that didn't excuse him being a man. And all men could be cracked easily given the right pressure.

When they started going out, Cat played hard to get. It was a role she knew all too well and played perfectly. His frustration was evident and Cat enjoyed the power she had over him. So in hopes thinking if she let him win she would move up, so Cat gave in.

And boy was she dead wrong.

Raoul wouldn't give her Maria's job (the fool couldn't take subtle hints), but instead he offered her what he thought was the best. A future. Their future.

Cat knew from the start he was the type of man who would want to settle down and screw the fun. But she never expected the turn to happen so suddenly. She was in too deep. And there was one thing left for her to do. Cat had to get out. And _fast_.

Cat felt no remorse when she broke up with him. In fact, she blamed him for making her do it. Raoul had proposed and right there she told him she never wanted that life with him. She wasn't ready to settle down and probably never will. The man was hurt but Cat couldn't give a flying fig. He should have known from the start that she never wanted marriage. So she let him sulk.

But losing Raoul didn't mean that much to her. It wasn't like she was getting anywhere with him that she wanted. So Cat kept up the part of doting cousin as the threats on Maria took place. At first, Cat dismissed them and assured Maria she had nothing to fear and that it had to be a prank. The major flaws in her cousin were that Maria was gullible and had a sense of taking everything to heart. Both were superstitious with Maria being the strict one. It never occurred to Cat that it might have been the doings of the Phantom.

Despite the notes, Maria went out to sing. Another trait that all of the Giovanni family has was their stubbornness. And Maria wouldn't stop no matter what, thanks to Cat's support.

Thoughts of leaving hadn't occurred until Carlotta was found dead. The ballet girls began spreading rumors of the Phantom of the Opera and how he wanted Maria to leave. Maria was scared out of her mind at the bulletin and went to Cat for advice. Then she wanted to leave. As much as Cat would have liked her to, it wasn't the right timing to enforce it just yet.

Cat managed to convince Maria to go on in memory of Carlotta. It wasn't until a few days later that Maria couldn't go on anymore. It was that evening.

Cat still could remember the frantic call she got that following morning. Maria was completely hysterical that Cat had to go over to find out what was wrong. She saw the bruises and Maria told her to not even try to talk her out of it. She was sure it had been the Phantom and she couldn't stay knowing how close she came to losing her life.

Maria quit and Cat had no choice at the moment but to follow. After they were gone, Cat began planning her return without Maria's knowledge. She was going to wait to see how desperate Raoul became before hiring another girl before she would walk in. But the table turned when Maria informed her of Christine Dawson, New York, was the new leading lady at the Garnier.

Cat was outraged. They were gone not even for a whole month and already there was a replacement. So that was when Cat dropped in to chat with Raoul. She thought she would be able to sweet-talk him out of it, but it didn't work. He was smart in her ways so she needed a new route if she wanted to be Prima Donna.

So she had asked to hear her sing. It was the front she needed. While Raoul was giving his little speech, she had snuck out and met up with Joseph Brolin. She had a bone to pick with him and now she had a way to get him to do what she wanted.

Everyone knew he had problems. And he was always stuck in debt to his supplier. But Cat could make it possible for him to pay it off without losing his head. She offered him the cash if he would scare the girl senseless so she would leave. She never counted on Christine's ankle to break in the process. But it didn't matter. She was in and Christine was out… temporarily. Yes, the girl was now her understudy but she wasn't going to let that bother her.

She had won. And she was Marguerite.

Laughing, Cat pulled out her hairpins releasing her wavy black hair. She shook her curls until she had them in place. Satisfied, she proceeded to brush her hair while humming.

The chattering of the chorus girls out in the hallway was beginning to simmer and eventually died down. Cat was alone. Just the way she liked it.

Setting the brush down, she looked into the mirror to check herself before leaving. What she didn't expect to see was a scowling white face glaring spitefully at her, the eyes sparks of fire.

Her emerald eyes widened and gasping, she turned around to find… no one behind her.

Cat chuckled nervously. "Oh Catarina! You picked up on Maria's paranoia."

Shaking her head, she stood up to gather her purse only to freeze.

On the wall, terrible scratching marks all jagged were appearing on the wall. Holding her breath, she didn't scream until she saw the ghostly message:

_CuRioSitY AlWaYs KilLs ThE CaT. _

TBC…


	8. Chp 7: Curiosity and Investigations

A/N: I changed the Prologue a little. I decided that to make it a little bit more Leroux oriented by changing Christine's appearance to blonde hair and blue eyes. But her reincarnation will be a brunette still. A little confusing, but you don't always have to be an exact double of your past life.

I finally seen Dear Frankie! I'm so happy! Gerard was so amazing in it! Such a sad movie… I love it! And if you haven't seen Corpse Bride yet do so. It's so funny. Thank you all for your reviews! Thanks to Megan as always for the lovely betaing. And here we have our Persian! Yea for Nadir!

**Chapter 7- Curiosity and Investigations**

As soon news broke out about Cat's wall, Jamie asked, "So now do you believe us Christine?"

Christine shrugged. "I'm sorry but this isn't going to change my mind. I mean, a message appearing by itself? That's impossible. She probably did it herself."

"Nh-uh! You have to see it for yourself," the young girl insisted eagerly. "It's unbelievable."

"Oh yeah someone carved a message on the wall. How unbelievable can you get?" Meg sarcastically remarked.

"Meg c'mon!" Jamie whined. "You of all people! Your mother…"

"My mother _is _superstitious. She believes in it, I know. But I don't. It's a story to scare children and we have plenty running about."

"I don't know Meg."

All three, startled, looked up as Stacey Carter came over. Her face was stark white, her eyes deeply troubled. "This isn't something to be taken lightly. Cat _saw _it being inscribed. It wasn't like she walked in and it was there. But she saw the letters being cut in. And _no one was there!_" She paused and stared at Christine with dawning apprehension. "He doesn't want Cat in the opera. That's why he did it. He must want **you**."

The brunette chuckled nervously. "Stacey… that's crazy. Be serious."

"I am Christine," Stacey replied, solemnly.

Jamie gasped. "Ohmygod! You're right! That's why there were no incidents when Christine came! He _does _want you to sing!"

"I don't know—" Christine began.

"Come on." Stacey grabbed one of her crutches and tugged her over to the dressing room. "M. de Chagny is right now calling the police so we have enough time to see it before it's closed off."

Meg and Jamie followed close behind as they reached Cat's room. She stopped outside to look at them. "I'm not going back in there. It's cursed. The work of Satan it is."

Christine's eyes widened. She never heard Stacey talked like that before and it was unnerving. Everyone here was terrified out of his or her minds when it came to the Phantom that she wondered perhaps she shouldn't laugh at the topic anymore. Not when the reactions were this strongly.

Swallowing hard, Christine went inside.

First glance, it appeared to be like any other dressing room. Cat's things were all over the place and she didn't see anything that would be considered "demonic take over". Until she turned around.

"Good Lord…" her voice trailed off.

"What?" Meg came bounding in and looked at where Christine gaped. "Mary and Joseph…" was Meg's reply.

Written across the wall in a haunting spidery hand was the chilling message:

_CuRioSitY AlWaYs KilLs ThE CaT_

Her mouth ran dry as she reread it. It had to be some sick prank. Christine stared hard as chills ran up and down her spine. She saw that handwriting before. She was sure of it.

"Christine?"

Meg interrupted her thoughts. Christine gazed at her friend, the color drained from her face.

"I've seen it before," the brunette whispered, her voice shaking towards the end. Meg stared wide-eyed at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I recognize it! Meg… I don't know how or why…"

Right before her eyes she saw herself opening a letter with her name on it in a sloppy childish hand. The paper inside was written in ink as red as blood—

_Dearest Christine,_

_Do not fear. You shall be Marguerite. I'll make sure of it. Your Angel will make it all right and the city of Paris will be at your feet._

_Your obedient servant_

Christine closed her eyes shut and when they opened all of her anxiety came crashing down on her. She stumbled over to the nearest trashcan and threw up.

xxXXxx

"Did you see it Raoul? Did you see it!" screeched Cat.

"Cat please. I'm sure it was nothing more than a harmless prank." Raoul sighed as the Italian soprano walked around his office like a rocket stuck up her—

"A prank? A prank? Do you think implying that saying to _my _name is a prank?" she yelled, her eyes narrowing to slits. "_Always_. What the hell does that mean?"

Raoul opened his mouth to speak only to have her wave him off, returning to her vigorous pacing. "Someone wants me out that's obvious. But I'm not going. Whoever it is cannot scare me off like Maria."

"Cat could you please sit down?" Raoul ordered impatiently. "Look, I just hung up with the police. Then when they get here we'll try to get this settled. But for now you need to calm down."

Falling down, she hugged herself tightly. "Raoul, I think we need to think of the possible suspects. I believe Christine Dawson—"

"For once can you leave her name out?" Raoul barked, standing up abruptly. Angrily, he pushed himself back into his seat, glaring at his ex-girlfriend. "She's not out to get you. Why do you blame her?"

"Duh the lead!" Cat retorted. "She thinks I'm to blame for her ankle being broken."

Raoul groaned. "For Pete's sake, no! Cat quit behaving like a spoiled brat and grow up. This is not the wonder years anymore. If you both cannot act civil to one another then I'll have to take action, got it? I will not have two singers go at each other's throat over some silly misunderstanding."

"It wouldn't be going on if you haven't hired her!" Cat snapped.

"What? Oh not go pinning this on me. You left with your cousin. No one forced you to walk out that door, family honor or not. You made your choice. You **decided** to go. If you wanted that part so damn much than you should have stayed! I'm sure Maria wouldn't be that upset with you."

"You don't know her like I do de Chagny!" Cat glowered. "Maria has a horrible grudge and she could turn the whole family on me with a snap of her finger. Would you want me to be abandoned by my family? But how would you know? You hate yours and good riddens I suppose."

Raoul clenched his fists but didn't move. He would not let her get to him. His family was _his _business and not some snobbish rich singer. "You're insufferable you know that?"

Cat snorted. "I've been called worse. Good day Raoul."

She stood up and stormed out of the office while bumping into Adele. The ballet mistress watched her hurried out before entering to find a disgruntled owner.

"What is it Adele?" he questioned bitterly.

"I'm going to pretend the last few minutes didn't happen so I expect some manners sir," Adele stated firmly. "Now, I'm here about Signora's room. I believe it would be wise if you boot her out and let Mlle Dawson take over."

"Adele her ankle is broken, if you haven't noticed," Raoul responded agitated. "I'm sure you're not that senile, at least not yet."

Adele scowled but did not bother chastising him for lack of respect. Going through a fight with Cat could make anymore forget who they are and who they're around.

"M. de Chagny, I know. But her cast is coming off next week. Surely we don't need a Marguerite until then. We'll go over the scenes that's she not in."

"It's not just that Adele. You want to know the people's reaction when Philip told them who our new star was? Astonishment! They were not willing to attend the opera if we had some fresh singer from America. They want someone they know will make the show great. That's because they know Cat's back. Perhaps if she never did we might have some interest viewers for Mlle Dawson. They would have taken a risk, but not now. Not when Catarina Giovanni made her unexpected debut. It's the goddamn politics."

"So?" Adele persisted. "If they were willing to continue to go before Signora Giovanni, then couldn't they accept that there _are _better singers in the world other than her? That maybe this Christine Dawson could be the highlight for the season?"

"It's not easy Adele," Raoul muttered, shaking his head slowly. "I hired her only until we had an 'official' lead soprano. Though I didn't expect it to be so soon and especially it being Cat."

"What?" the older woman was flabbergasted. "If you don't want Signora then fire her! What's the point of still keeping her? And what of Dawson?"

"She knew the fine print before taking the part!" Raoul exclaimed. "I don't want to lose her Adele, so don't for a second think that I have no regards for her. She… _both _has until opening day, which isn't going to be for a couple of months. Anything could happen."

"Yes," Adele agreed. "And you and I both know what might happen in that time."

"Adele…"

"Sir, this is no laughing matter. You're too smart to know that by now. Please forget the critics, forget the people, and listen to what you know is right. We never had any problems before concerning him when we did what he wanted, and we still won't if you give the role back to Christine."

"I made up my mind Adele. I think it's about time that we get over this silly ghost and focus on today. Superstitions are overrated, sorry, but I'm through with that running my theatre. We're all civilized adults capable of controlling our lives without our fears doing it for us. And nothing will change my mind. I assure you."

Adele interlaced her fingers in her hands, sighing. "I hope that you're right Monsieur," she whispered.

xxXXxx

By the time Raoul and Adele's meeting concluded, the police arrived. Everyone was being questioned; no one was to be left out.

Christine still felt ill to her stomach as she left the room before it came overrun with investigators. The handwriting left an imprint in her mind along with the quick flash of her vision. Desperately she wanted to believe it as an atrocious fluke. Maybe it could still be a joke… though a voice in her head was saying otherwise. Both incidences couldn't be related. It couldn't.

She was busy telling herself that even as she was called into M. de Chagny's office.

Taking a seat she looked straight across at the detective in charge of the investigation.

He appeared to be in his middle ages, dark-skinned and short curly dark hair. His eyes were a deep shade of brown that held a pensive and patronizing nature. That was enhanced with his suave charcoal suit and perfect tie.

His scrutinizing stare didn't help much to ease her discomfort as the dark irises roved down to her cast ankle, comprehension flickering in those eyes. The look was completely covered up as he nodded to an officer standing by the door to close it.

Christine turned around to see him leave and swallowed hard. She felt like a kid all over again being sent to the principal's office. She never was a troublemaker but having to go down there for any reason was like being put on death roll. And she knew she had no reason to be nervous, but her body had a mind of its own.

"Mlle Christine Dawson I presume," the detective spoke, his Eastern accent rolling off his tongue with clarity. "My name is Detective Nasir Kanye."

She nodded; her hands shook slightly as she placed them in her lap.

"I'm sure you already know what has taken place by now. News travels fast around here," he continued, those piercing dark eyes not once breaking their contact, as he flipped out his notebook.

"Yes it does." Christine could feel the bile beginning to rise in her throat. Running off to the bathroom wasn't going to help her position in the matter. Surely Cat had already informed the authorities about her.

"Mlle Dawson, I understand that there's a little rife between you and Signora Giovanni."

"I guess you could say so," Christine answered, holding the immense need to flee for the nearest bin or something. "We're not on the best of terms."

"Yes M. de Chagny and Signora had told me so. Now Mlle Dawson I'm not here to point fingers and throw out accusations, got it? I want to get to the bottom of this and clear up this mess. You're new to here so I'm going to be straightforward. This isn't the first time I been called down here to investigate strange messages and so forth. This has happened even before you showed up, but it doesn't completely rule you out in being a possible suspect. I need to get all the information before I can make some unsuspecting drop-ins and calls." He grinned at her.

"Now, to start off, M. de Chagny had told me of the accident you had with the backdrop. I'm terribly sorry it happened."

"Yes it was and thank you," Christine replied, shifting her weight. "Good news, I might be getting it off by the end of next week if all goes well."

"Good good," Detective Kanye murmured. "Could you tell me of your position here?"

"Before Signora Giovanni arrived I was asked to play Marguerite. After my ankle broke M. de Chagny thought it was best if I were to be the understudy while Signora Giovanni took over."

"You seem to be taking this very well," Kanye remarked.

"Not really," she confessed. "I'm upset but I'm getting use to it. M. de Chagny has been running the Garnier for some time so he has better knowledge of how he wants to cast his performers. If he wants Signora Giovanni then I have to respect that decision."

"That's very big of you Mademoiselle," he commented. Christine grinned sheepishly.

"Mlle Dawson, where were you the other night?"

"I was at Mlle Garrison's apartment. I'm living with her while _Faust _runs through."

"Uh-huh, can she verify this?"

Christine nodded. "I was watching the rehearsals and afterwards we went out to dinner and then to the apartment."

"All right…" He scribbled some notes down. "By the looks of it, it sounds likes you have a pretty secured alibi. Now I don't want you to be alarmed Mademoiselle, but you do understand that there could be a possible motive."

"I understand sir."

"This is the tough question. Do you know of anyone who would do this? Say someone who might hold a grudge against Signora Giovanni?"

Christine chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn't here that long enough to know someone who would, but everyone didn't like her. Anyone could be liable, yet she couldn't picture anyone doing this. "No," she said.

"But do you think the 'Phantom' that lives here would?"

She started. "W-why would you ask?"

He shrugged. "Procedures miss. Whenever I'm sent here the Phantom is always the top perpetrator. Just asking the usual routine questions."

"Oh."

"Do you believe in him then?" he asked.

"No," she answered firmly, almost reassuring herself of her beliefs. "No." _But what about the other day? Someone was in the kitchen with you. Someone not solid._

She shook her curls, to rid herself of her thoughts. "No Detective."

"O-okay," Kanye mumbled. He glanced briefly at her and smiled. "Thank you for your time Mlle Dawson. If you should recall anything that might be helpful, here's my number to my office." He paused to hand her his card. "And I hope your ankle heals."

"Thank you Detective, good-bye."

"Good-bye Mademoiselle," Kanye called as the door shut behind her.

xxXXxx

Meg later found Christine in the hall outside her dressing room, sitting with her legs outstretched.

"You okay?" Meg inquired, kneeling next to her.

"To be honest, I had better," Christine admitted. "I never had been questioned by the police before. So it was kind of scary, especially since I seem plausible for this to happen."

Meg smiled. "Don't let this get to you. You, I, and just about everyone even M. de Chagny knows you would never threaten Cat. She's to full of herself and she knows you're the better between the two of you. It's obvious."

"Thanks Meg." Christine felt a little better. "Do you think Detective Kanye would find out who did this?"

The blonde did a little roll with her shoulder. "Hard to say. This is Garnier, we're full of secrets and scandals."

Christine laughed. "That's for sure."

"But of course Jamie is telling him right now the Phantom was responsible. She's too predictable."

Christine had to agree.

Then Meg suddenly asked her the thing she dreaded. "So mind telling me what happened back there this morning? I never saw you freak out before."

The brunette blushed. "I-it's hard to explain."

"What's hard to explain? You said you recognized it and surely that had to be some useful information to the police—" Meg's blue eyes widened as Christine embarrassingly looked away. "No… no you didn't! Christine!" She hit her arm hard. "Why didn't you?"

"Ow Meg," Christine cried, rubbing her arm.

"That was for your stupidity! Don't you know if you know something that could be vital to tell the police!"

Christine glared at her. "I know that! But Meg it's not like I know for certain."

"So?" The blonde was livid.

"Look, I said I recognized it, yes. But I don't know how or why. I just _did_."

Meg snorted. "Yeah. C'mon Christine you're hiding something from me, spill it!"

"I-I can't," she whispered brokenly. It killed her that she couldn't confide in Meg, but it was the only thing to do. She couldn't risk telling another person only for it to be thrown in her face. _Meg would never do that. You know that. You knew that when you two met._

"I'm sorry Meg. My head hurts and I would really like to lie down for a spell."

Meg regarded her strangely before nodding. "Fine. There's a couch in Maman's office, you can use. But don't think I'm letting you off so easily."

Meg grabbed Christine's hands and helped her up. "It's this way." Meg led her a little ways past the "Death Crossing" and turned down a narrow hall. It was short, leaving only one door on the left side near the end.

Meg knocked once before entering, with Christine trailing behind. "Isn't this--?"

"Yeah. But don't worry. This is the only room the 'Phantom' allows us to use."

_I hope so. I would hate to know what he uses a ballet mistress's office for_, Christine thought.

It was indeed Adele's office. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing displaced or out of order. On the bulletin board were ribbons and pictures of Adele and Meg dancing and a few trophies gracing the office.

Christine wandered around, noticing several of the awards had Adele's name on them. _She certainly was an accomplished dancer_, she thought.

"Welcome to my mother's world of ballet. Where pain is inevitable and honor is prestigious," Meg joked, her lips curling into a wry grin. "Maman loves to dance. So did I but unfortunately I'm not much of a dancer anymore."

Christine lightly tapped a plaque on the wall, turning to Meg with interest gleaming in her doe brown eyes. "What do you mean?"

She motioned to her knees. "I injured them pretty badly when I was younger. I can do some minor steps, but nothing that requires too much effort. I hate it Christine. I missed wearing those ridiculous exposed dresses and twirling on my toes to the music. Now you understand why I can be a little harsh to Stacey."

Christine chuckled softly. "At least you can still do some dancing."

"Yeah," the blonde said, gazing longingly at the pictures. Facing Christine with a faint smile, Meg told her, "Basically you will have this to yourself. I'll just let Maman know you're in here resting."

"Okay." Christine paused and walked over to the table in the corner. "Who's that?" She asked as she picked up a small dark frame that held a black and white photo of a young girl.

Meg stepped closer to her, taking the photo from her. "That'll be my great-great-great grandmother. Antoinette Giry, the one who started it all you could say. She was the first ballet mistress here and this room was her home."

"Cool." With an impressed look, Christine nodded for her to continue.

"Anyways, supposedly she was the Phantom's confidante. There were rumors about this when the managers fired her, thinking _she _was the Phantom. During one of the performances, the chandelier fell, landing on top of her replacement. After that incident, Antoinette was given back her job. According to the Phantom's _orders_. Since then she never was bothered."

"It sounds like the Phantom was boss around here."

Meg laughed. "He ruled here! He promised Antoinette because of her loyal services her daughter (my great-great grandmother) would become Empress. Well, that didn't happen. She ended up as an Baroness, but it's still a good status."

"So what happen?" Christine asked.

"Her children that's what. She had a couple of daughters wanting to dance and one of them ran off to join the theatre. Her family, since then, always had a role in the arts. My 'rich' relatives and my family aren't on the best of terms and frankly I don't care. I don't like them at all. I met them when I was younger and they were so horrible to my mother and I! They looked down on us as if we were dirt, especially Maman since she was a single parent. My father left us when I was baby," Meg explained, her blue eyes taking on a distant gaze. "I never met him. And I doubt I'll ever will."

"Meg, I had no idea. I'm so sorry!" Christine sympathetically placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, honestly," Meg said, smiling softly. "Well, I should also tell you that my great-great grandmother was good friends with M. de Chagny's great-great grandmother."

"Really?"

Meg nodded eagerly. "Unofficially Christine Daae was adopted by my ancestors. After she married the Vicomte, their ties broke off sadly."

"Why?"

Meg shrugged. "I'm not altogether sure. It's odd when you look at it. Marguerite and Christine were tight and then whish! No more. I think it was about their lives in general. At the time, mine was still a dancer after his were married and it wasn't until a few years later when mine married. But yet they didn't keep in contact. Strange, huh?"

Christine slightly nod her head. "Yeah it is." The brunette crossed her crutches over so she could hold herself. The temperature in the room lowered a notch, but Meg didn't seem to pay it any heed.

"We have some of my great-great grandmother's diaries. I never read them, but my mother has. She said there was a slight chance that Christine Daae had feelings for the Phantom. He nurtured her voice unlike anything a mortal has ever heard, and there were some signs of an attraction for him from her." Meg shook her head. "Yet she still wed the Vicomte."

"T-then what happened to him?" Christine shivered. Meg looked in her direction, raising an eyebrow. "Are you cold?"

"A-a little," Christine admitted with a shaky grin.

"Hmm, might be the AC. Well, no one knows for sure what happened to him. In the diaries, the Phantom died of a broken heart, at least that's what Antoinette believed and Marguerite wrote. It makes sense really, since he loved Christine Daae so much it bordered on the lines of intense obsession."

"The poor man," Christine murmured. The cold drifted a little, allowing Christine to relax comfortably. "Did he have a name?"

"I don't know if he did. Probably, but the ones who knew are dead now. I'm surprised that Jamie didn't tell you about his appearance. He was a deformed genius, forced to live underground. He wrote an opera but it was never finished. My family tried searching for it but no luck. He might have destroyed it after Christine left or the sands of time withered it away."

Meg turned towards her. "Guess I kind of brought the mood down. It's tragic, I know, but there's no ghosts haunting here. And I don't care what people say or think. The Phantom's gone, never coming back. There's no use in looking back at the past. What's done was done."

"Right." _What's done was done. Too bad it ended so horribly. _

"I should let you be. I'll come back when rehearsals are over."

Christine didn't bother to say good-bye and silently went over to the settee and collapsed. She had a general idea of what life he must have led. Birth defects at the time were condemned by society and she pitied the unnamed Phantom. _All he wanted probably was to be loved. And never experienced it. _

Christine had plenty of love from family and her friends, that she couldn't even imagine living a life without some love in it. It must have been terrible for him.

_Meg said he was boss here. He had orders and they were followed through. Could it even be possible? Could the Phantom carved that message? But why would he want me to sing?_

She didn't think on it long enough. She fell fast asleep as a violin faintly played in the background.

xxXXxx

_"Catarina…"_

"Huh?" Cat drowsily lifted her head and glanced around. The singer had fallen asleep in front of her vanity. Groggy, she looked at her watch and groaned. A couple of hours passed since rehearsals were over. That meant Cat was alone again, with the exception of the janitors.

"Damnit," she muttered as she stretched her arms over her head. "You have to be kidding me."

Her jaded eyes glared through the mirror at the wall where the message still stood out. It had been left there for almost a week now. Someone was supposed to have it fixed, but so far the person has yet to do so. And Cat, irritated, confronted Raoul only to have his door slam in front of her face. _The nerve of him_, she scowled to herself. _No one shuts out Catarina Giovanni!_

She was also frustrated that the Detective Kanye didn't order for Christine Dawson's arrest. She told the police she knew that American twit had something to do with it, but there wasn't enough substantial evidence against her. There were plenty of witnesses to speak out on Dawson's side. _Damn fools. They have no idea I was doing them a favor. I'm the Prima Donna here not that foolish child!_

Cat huffed as she stood abruptly. "No one can stop me from singing! Not her and not some Phantom!"

She nod once at her reflection, smirking. "I'll get rid of her somehow. Even if I have to stage another accident to do so, I will."

The Italian soprano turned on her feet and only managed a few steps when she stopped cold. She nervously looked around. _Stupid. You're alone. _Shrugging, Cat took another step towards her car when she heard a soft voice calling her name.

Startled, Cat turned around. "Who's there?" That voice had been too near. Her eyes keenly scanned the dressing room. Nothing. But she could have sworn someone had to be in here. "If this is some kind of joke it's not funny!"

When no response came, Cat hurried over to the door just as goosebumps poke up on her arms. Gulping hard, Cat reached towards the handle, her hand slightly shaking as she pulled it open. A gust of cool air greeted Cat but she ignored the chill and went out.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Taking tentative steps, Cat proceeded to move down the hall, checking behind her to see if there was another person nearby. "Brolin? Is that you?"

"_Catarina…."_

She froze. "H-hello?" she squeaked quietly. "Brolin? It's not funny."

_"Brolin's not here…"_ was the eerie reply. _"Who could it be?"_

Cat whipped her head to the side to find darkness engulfing the corridors. One by one the lights were going out.

Heart racing, Cat turned forward and quickened her pace. "It's in your head. It's in your head. Someone is playing a trick on you."

A sinister chuckle echoed the empty halls causing Cat to move faster. "No one there. No one there," she chanted, as she turned abruptly. From the corner of her jaded eye, she thought she saw a figure dart by.

Snapping her head to the front, Cat hurried. The heels from her shoes resounding as she broke out into a run. Faster she went until when she thought she should have been at the entrance. Glancing at her surroundings, Cat panicked.

_Death Crossing! _Her mind screamed. _The Phantom's domain! _Taking a deep breath, she forced her thoughts to get in order. _Okay, you took a wrong turn somewhere for you to end up here. Now go back. No one's going to hurt you; it's only some fool thinking he's outsmarting you. Show you're not afraid. _

Forcing a brave façade, Cat retraced her steps only to come back to the hex hallway. By now most of the lights were off and Cat couldn't find anyone. The theatre was deserted. Well, almost…

"Dawson. She planned this!" Cat sneered. "She thinks she can scare me! I'll show that slut that no one messes with Catarina and get away with it!"

Once those words left her mouth, a violin began to fill the silence. Any further insults died out as she listened intently to the wordless melody. Closing her eyes, Cat felt a tingling sensation start in her belly and quickly spread through her limbs. The music was… intoxicating. Never had she heard anything so sensual before as the notes seemingly caressed her like an experienced lover. It knew where to descend to make her burn with desire. And then a voice! An achingly beautiful baritone, whispered huskily in her ear.

_"Cat… Cat… come to me…"_

She closed her eyes, the haunting tune washing over her, arousing such deep emotions she never knew existed to rise. The pitch grew louder, though so gently like a lullaby. The music was pulling her, gripping her as involuntarily her feet moved towards it.

It was so beautiful and so warm. Cat never felt so free before as the mysterious voice continued to enrapture and seduce her with his playing.

"Heaven," she murmured.

_"And it's for you… come and you'll live for eternity…"_

"Mine," she whispered.

She drifted to the end where the violin was coming from, a heavenly glow outlining the cracks around the door. Magically, the door opened for her, revealing its glorious splendor as the light poured at her feet.

_"Come and live!"_

"Yes!" Cat gasped in fervor as she stepped inside, the door slamming behind.

Sealed tight, laughter wailed in the darkness crying,

"_Curiosity **always **kills the cat!"_

TBC…


	9. Chp 8: Disappeared

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry it took so long but I've been bombarded with tests. And to make things worst, my school lost our Homecoming game. Grrr… And the one girl I don't like won Homecoming Queen. I would be really happy to get some reviews to cheer me up… thanks and enjoy! Thank you Megan for a great job in editing this between schoolwork. You're the best!

**Chapter 8- Disappeared**

"Have you heard about happened to Cat?" Stacey inquired as she came across Christine and Meg.

At their shaking, Stacey grinned. "She's missing."

"Um, no offense Stace, but duh," Meg replied. "She hasn't been here for a couple days now if you haven't noticed the peace and quiet."

Stacey rolled her eyes. "Stop being so bitchy Meg. Forget your Midal this morning?" Meg scowled, but the ballet dancer continued, "Anyways, someone went to her apartment to check to see why she hasn't showed up for rehearsals yet and no one was there."

"She could have gone to her cousin's to vent," Meg pointed out.

"But she's not. M. de Chagny already called her and after being yelled at she told him Cat wasn't there. Detective Kanye has been in the office all morning long." Stacey glanced down and gasped. "Christine you have your cast off! How does your ankle feel?"

"Good as new," the brunette answered, a large grin on her face. "So did you stick around to see what they had to say?"

Stacey wiggled her eyebrows and hackled wickedly. "Of course! No note has shown up indicating Cat was kidnapped or she picked up and left."

"Why would they even suggest kidnapping? No one would want to and if someone was stupid enough to do it then they would turn themselves in!" snickered Meg.

Stacey nodded. "Totally but Detective Kanye and M. de Chagny aren't dismissing the message on her wall. There has to be a connection, it's too convenient for it to be coincidental. I think Cat fled as the chickenshit she is. And good ridden for that matter."

Christine frowned at her declaration. "Stacey don't even say that. What if something horrible happened to her?"

She gave her a skeptical look. "Don't tell me you're not even glad? Damn Christine she treated you like shit to be honest and you're worried? I'll be doing snoopy dances in your shoes by now."

"So?" she protested. "Yeah Cat isn't the greatest example of anything meaning humanity, but she _still _is a living person. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, no matter how badly they treated me." Guiltily, Christine was screaming for joy on the inside. It could possibly mean she would get the lead back, where it _belonged_. And she felt ashamed. _What would Mom and Daddy think? Their daughter pleased that someone is missing for what? A role? They would be mortified!_

Stacey was right. There _had _to be a connection to the message on the wall and Cat's disappearance. Perhaps whoever wrote it must have taken the singer. It seemed probable and it made it inevitable that Christine would snag the part again. After all, Raoul told her that if anything should happen to Cat then **she **had Marguerite.

The notion of someone doing this for her sent tremors down her spine. Not only that but what of her ankle? She knew it had to be no accident and what if someone thought so too? Would they have scared Cat off for her? Did she have some psycho stalker that she wasn't aware of?

Christine felt ill to her stomach. What if that person turned out not pleased with her? Would she be the next eliminated?

"I don't care what you say Christine, but I'm certainly glad that someone just made the world one less Cat."

"Stacey, Christine's right. I don't like her either but I wouldn't want this to happen to her. What if she were…?" Meg trailed off.

Stacey snorted. "Don't tell me Megara you're feeling glum about this! Whatever you saints, go ahead and feel sorry. I for one am relieved that I wouldn't have to hear her complaints anymore. This should be a happy occasion guys!"

"But who would do this?" Christine spoke quietly. "It doesn't make sense—"

"Yeah it does!" Stacey cut in. "Christine, think about it. You had the part and everything was going well. Cat shows up, you become detained, and Cat gets the part. Then everything gets shot down to Hell. Clearly this is the work of the Phantom! He's upset and he's getting his revenge!"

"Pish posh," Meg chided her. "Stacey you're as bad as Jamie. There is no Phantom. If someone was doing this then it was a person of flesh and blood."

"Brolin's too fried to come up with this," Stacey pointed out.

"Who even said I was considering Brolin?" Meg shot back. "I'm saying it was _someone _not _something_."

"Ahem."

The three heads snapped up to a very irritated Adele Garrison. "Ladies, I believe rehearsals have started. Now go!" she barked.

Meg and Stacey scrambled off, neither wanting to be disciplined. A light smile flickered over her features as she looked at Christine. "I trust your ankle is fine?"

"Yes it is Adele. Thank you."

"Good. We need you as Marguerite. Hurry up my dear."

Excitement replaced her somber countenance and she wordlessly hugged Adele before running off. _Who says I can't be a little overjoyed?_

xxXXxx

How could this have happened? How could Cat leave without a word to anyone?

The first day Raoul then thought it was her way to get back at him for not allowing Christine Dawson to leave indefinitely. It was pure jealousy on the Italian woman's part to think that her understudy would go to extreme measures and threaten her with special effects.

It was hysterical to see the dominating and pampered beauty being snubbed by a quiet, sensitive singer from New York.

During their meeting, Detective Kanye even made a remark of how he couldn't believe Christine capable of doing the crime Cat accused her of. She wasn't that type of person to intentionally go the limits.

But the second day was unusual. Before Cat would walk away for a day and the next she was little Miss Sunshine, returning to her usual complaining antics. There had been no phone call, letter, or even e-mail from her! Raoul became worried and called the only person he knew who might know of her whereabouts. Maria Giovanni.

His call had been unexpected and out-of-the-blue, but Raoul needed to know where his Marguerite was.

Maria, on the other hand, was upset. One, Raoul hired a new girl. Two, her cousin was threatened like she was and _he _didn't "take the assertive action against the American". And three, he had no idea where his singer was.

For 45 minutes, Raoul sat there having his ear chewed off as the former Prima Donna gave her piece of mind. When she was out of breath she finally admitted she had no call from her cousin and nor did she know where she was. And that was the end of the conversation. After she cursed him to Hell.

So he did the next thing he could think of. He sent a runner to Cat's apartment, demanding she should come to rehearsals. There had been no response or any signs of life behind her door.

And the last resort was calling the detective. He dealt with Detective Kanye before with Maria's threats and he was also around during the mysterious kidnappings and deaths of the dancers back in '82. So if anyone could understand Raoul's concern it would be him.

And it was.

The Iranian assured him he would find what happened to the soprano. It could be a case of someone needed money by someone desperate and thinking a famous opera singer could get it for him. In which case, hopefully, she wouldn't be harmed. Then again, if someone were to be hurt, it wouldn't be Cat.

Sighing, Raoul got up from his desk and wandered down the halls. Everything was going wrong. Horribly wrong. He lost his leading lady and if anything were to happen to her then Raoul would have no choice but to face the Devil himself. And he wanted to save himself from going _tête-à-tête_ with her family.

_Like it would matter_, he mused. _If not them, surely Cat would do the honors._

It was one of those rare moods he'll get when Raoul wondered if buying the Garnier was honestly worth it. In his heart, he knew it was. He had good intentions to do this in the name of his beloved great-great grandmother, and none of this was for his own selfish reasons. Well, maybe a little.

But, he told himself he had fared well. Ticket sales skyrocketed as soon as he took over. The audience loved the Giovanni's and a scandal. And his buying certainly was a juicy one.

At least it drew a crowd, one that lasted every season. And he did prove his parents wrong that participating in the arts wasn't a dreaded omen like they believed to be. Even if they didn't want to admit this to themselves or to Philip. _Though, I wish they would. At least I could rub it in their faces with a free box._

Walking past the open doors to the wings, he heard Christine's voice ringing out. Raoul stopped and peered inside.

_Maybe buying was the best decision I ever made. Then I wouldn't have ever met… _Raoul ended the thought, not wanting to go that path. Christine was a sweet pretty girl, he couldn't deny that, but Raoul was positive he couldn't survive another heartache. Christine didn't seem the kind to play with a man's heart and leave him cold, but he was more worried about himself hurting her.

He only needed her for this show until he could find a suitable permanent singer. He couldn't ask her to stay for his account, not when she had a life already back in America. She had friends, a promising career, maybe some family awaiting her return. No. It wouldn't be fair for him or for her if they were to go out.

_Then again, what makes you so sure she would be interested? She may like you as a friend and you're fretting over nothing_, he berated himself. But as he continued to watch her, he couldn't shake away the pleasant sensations coursing through him. He liked her that was far as he would admit his feelings. Who couldn't?

She had a good sense of humor; smart, funny, talented, shy… the list went on. They liked many of the same things, which was surprisingly to a guy like Raoul. She was also easy to get along with and talk to. There was this carefree attitude she carried and it appeared she would keep any secret anyone told her. Christine knew her place and acted on order without complaints. If she felt there something weak somewhere, she wasn't afraid to put her two-sense in. Christine was the perfect woman.

But was Raoul the perfect man?

xxXXxx

A day had passed and still no word on Cat was known. Christine could literally feel the tenseness in the air.

Everyone was uptight about the singer's disappearance and stories were leaking out all over.

_The Phantom must have kidnapped her…_

_M. de Chagny didn't listen and this was payback!_

And in every one, the Phantom was the prime suspect.

Christine contemplated whether or not if this was the singer's sick way of making everyone worry or that the Phantom _did _exist.

Meg wouldn't hear any of it and believed Cat knowingly did this. However, there was a slight uneasy feeling in the blonde's eyes that showed otherwise. Christine had took over, no announcement was needed, and if Cat did run off on her own then she should have returned of by now so her rival couldn't replace her.

But she hasn't.

No one had dared to go into Cat's dressing room, except for the police but no evidence of foul play was found. If something had happened to her, then it either had to happen outside the theatre or she went on her own free will. But there wasn't anything to point out her fate.

It was all very strange.

And to make it worse, Maria Giovanni showed up demanding to see her cousin.

Raoul did his best to break the news to her carefully, but it hadn't help much. Maria went ballistic. She threatened to have him arrested for Cat's disappearance, but it was just meaningless words. Maria broke down and cried for Cat, cursing the person who did this to her family.

Raoul tried to comfort her but ended up being kicked in the shins before she left. The matter wasn't resolved.

Later he received a call from Cat's father requesting to see his daughter immediately. Again, Raoul told him what happened. It didn't matter that the police notified them about Cat, they wanted answers. And they wanted them _fast_.

Christine's heart went out to the owner. This was taking its toll on him and she did her best by working the hardest during rehearsals. But her mind was deeply troubled by the whole incident. It didn't help much when she was having nightmares about Cat.

She did voice her concern to Meg. It was the first time that they known each other that Christine opened up truthfully to her. She told Meg about Cat and how it was nagging her.

Meg assured her not to worry about it. It wasn't going to make her feel better if she continued to drive herself over the edge about it.

As hard as she tried, Christine couldn't get the image of Cat meeting an untimely misfortune with a chilling laughter ringing in her ears.

xxXXxx

She couldn't concentrate. It was a bad day from the moment she woke after another restless night of tossing and turning. And once more Cat crept into her mind.

_Why can't I stop obsessing over this? _She asked herself. _None of this makes any sense and here I am constantly questioning it._

"Mlle Dawson!" snapped M. Roberts. "This isn't break time. Now once again from the top!"

_Oops_. This was the third time Roberts had to get her attention. She received a few odd glances from her co-stars but she shrugged it off. They might not be worried but she was.

Briefly, Christine stole a quick peek above the stage and relaxed. Since the moment Cat went missing, Christine was getting this eerie feeling she was being watched. Her mistakes were piling up and somehow she knew it was displeasing to him. But who was "he"?

_God, you're turning into Jamie! Quit being so paranoid and do your job! _Christine scolded herself. _Everything's fine! No one's watching you save the rest of the cast and crew. That's all!_

But the whispering of the Phantom was starting to get to her. Could it be true? Her rational mind screamed "yes!" but she doubted that half. Could there be a slight chance this wasn't some ordinary kidnapping or running away? The theatre had a history of instances similar to Cat's when the person would either show up barely alive or… dead.

_Now you don't know if she's really dead,_ she chided. _But it's been almost a week and the police still can't find anything. _

She once more had to be questioned by Detective Kanye, but he was quit to dismiss her. Christine had an ironclad alibi and surprisingly so did anyone else that was questioned. Cat was alone in the theatre around the time she was thought to be gone missing. There were no cameras in the theatre in the halls by the dressing rooms that could show what had happened. And now Raoul was considering having them installed. Too bad it had to be his ex to be the incentive. Plus, Raoul wasn't going to risk another repeat of a missing performer.

"That's a wrap for the day!" Roberts announced to the relieved cast.

"God my throat pines for water," Meg declared as soon Christine walked over to her.

Christine grinned. "Please. Your notes aren't as bad as mine."

Meg blew a loose strand from her face and smirked. "That's because I'm not the star."

"I'm no star. I like to see myself as the girl with the character most involved in the story."

"Other words: star."

Christine rolled her eyes. "My throat's fine."

"Whatever."

"Have you guys seen Jamie?" Stacey approached them, her lips set in a firm line. "She missed rehearsal and I can't seem to find her anywhere."

Meg took a swig from her water bottle and shook her head. "No. What did my mother say?"

"I, uh, told a couple lies."

"Why?"

Stacey shrugged. "The kid's growing on me. She reminds me of me when I was her age—full of spunk and an earful of good gossip."

"Sorry Stacey. We haven't seen her," Christine told her. "But we'll let you know when we do."

Just then a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the theatre.

Alarmed, the three girls scrambled in the direction just as everyone followed. Panic was written all over Stacey's face. Christine glanced over to Meg who too was worried. By the time they rounded the corner, Brolin was holding onto a very white and shaken Jamie Jameson.

"What the Hell did you do to her?" Stacey shouted, grabbing the teen from his grasp. "Shh… it's okay."

Brolin shook his head, waving his hands. "I didn't do anything! I found her yelling her head off over there." He pointed in the direction of "Death Crossing".

Adele came from behind and took Jamie from Stacey's arms. "What happened?" she demanded, looking to the girls and Brolin for answers. "Is someone going to speak? Out with it!"

Brolin repeated the same thing he told Stacey and her friends before walking away, mumbling, "Crazy wench."

Adele glared at the oncoming gathering. "Everything is taken care of now go or I'll—"

No other words were needed. When Adele was upset, no one ever dared get in her way. The ballet mistress patted the sobbing teen on the back, whispering in her ear.

Jamie moaned and held Adele tighter. "Jamie what happened? What were you doing down there?" Stacey asked her gently.

She pulled back, her mouth opening but no sounds came out. She trembled all over, her eyes wide with fright before once more she erupted into tears. "S-s-s-s-s-she's," was all could be heard.

"Tell us, child," Adele cooed. "You're safe now. What did you see?"

Jamie fought off another sob and looked the older woman in the eye. "C-cat… s-s-she's…"

Adele's face paled and turned the teen over to Stacey's care. She crossed herself and murmured something inaudibly.

The action sent chills down Christine's spine and once more dread filled her. She had a very good idea what Jamie was trying to get at. Stacey started to take Jamie away as the girl hung on to her for dear life. Adele turned to her daughter and Christine, her fear plainly in view. "I-I'll inform M. de Chagny."

Meg nodded as her mother walked away. "Let's go!" She grabbed Christine's arm and tugged her towards the hall.

"Meg, I don't think that's a good idea—"

"C'mon Christine, don't go chicken on me. Something put Jamie in a terrible fright and the only way for us to know is to see for ourselves. Now, Brolin said she was hanging over 'Death Crossing' and that's where we'll look."

Reluctantly, Christine followed Meg as they went down the familiar path the former went on her first visit. Now, it didn't seem that spooky with Meg by her side.

Meg proceeded to go further down until she reached the last room. Christine gazed up to see a tarnished plaque, the name _Daae _visible. _This is her dressing room, _Christine thought in stunning realization.

Meg went inside with Christine at her heels. Right away a pungent stench greeted the unsuspecting girls. Meg covered her mouth to keep herself from gagging and turned over to Christine.

Christine did the same and bravely headed over to where the smell was coming from. She stopped in front of the large mirror, her eyes flicking towards the blonde who was busy wiping some dust off the vanity set.

Looking down, Christine saw a gape between the mirror and the wall at the right corner. Swallowing thickly, she bent down and with her free hand slipped her fingers inside and pushed the mirror to slide open.

It hardly moved. Taking a deep breath, she used both hands to yank it. The mirror slid open with force, which sent Christine landing on her butt.

Hearing the commotion, Meg moved over to where she was and froze, murmuring,

"Oh my God."

TBC…

I know there weren't any EC moments, but the next couple chapters will make EC shippers happy. Don't forget to review!


	10. Chp 9: Completely Spellbound

A/N: I'm so glad that I have new people reading this and I hope you continue to do so. The rating for this story starts to kick in and will throughout the rest. Happy Halloween everyone! Please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 9- Completely Spellbound**

Dead… dead… dear Lord she was dead…

Blood. Thick dark crimson pooled around the former soprano, flesh pale and yellowish. The scent of death floated around the hidden passage behind the mirror, blocking the senses. Christine grabbed the edge of the entryway, holding onto it for dear life, the image forever imprinted in her brain. Closing her eyes tightly, she saw the body through her lids, her own self wracking with sobs and apprehension.

Lying on the cold wooden boards, Catarina Giovanni's throat was torn open, the white and red skeleton peeking from the skin and muscle. Dotting across her pale pink blouse was a tiny trail of scarlet drops and down the ivory arm to her palm where her essence, her soul laid. Her nails, coated with bright red, and fingers dug into of what had been her larynx, her voice box.

But was worse… her face… so peaceful and mystified. Her round, olive-green irises glowed with childlike wonder, her natural ruby lips parted in reverence, a tiny lift of the corners in adoration…

Everything became dizzy, the white lights streaming through Christine's eyes, a shout from behind intertwining with the gruesome sight. Before she fell, an impassive, omnipotent voice whispered, _"I did this for you…"_

xxXXxx

"Oh my God! Dead?" Heather exclaimed, shock seeping through the phone.

No wonder Jamie had gone into hysterics. If she lived to be hundred, this was one sight Christine could never forget.

She closed her eyes, as the horrid image replayed once more in her mind.

No film or real-life dramas on television could have prepared Christine for Cat's remains. And she wasn't the type to grow ill from any sight of blood. The details of what happened afterwards were vague, but Meg informed her she had fainted and the coroners removed the body just when she was coming to. Christine couldn't remember her interview with the paramedics or the ride home with Meg. She had crawled away into a distant world, where the past events didn't exist. Cat was alive and bossing anyone who dared cross her path. Everything was normal nothing was out of place.

That had been a few days ago and Christine was slowly coming together with the startling reality. All rehearsals were canceled, despite the approaching opening night, as the police swept through the theatre for any hints that would lead them to the reasoning behind this heinous crime. As ill luck had it, nothing could be found and any causes were ruled out, leaving only suicide. And how dramatic it would be for a Prima Donna to exit with the removal of her most treasured prize?

"Yes," Christine replied quietly, squeezing her eyes, willing the queasiness to settle down. "Heather I cannot even describe it! It was something out of a Stephen King novel or one of your horror movies."

Heather whistled on the other line. "Lordy! So what did the police say?"

"It could be a possible suicide, but it doesn't make any sense! Cat had no reason to kill herself and if only you saw the look on her face… it was creepy. No one committing suicide could look that placid when they're about to die."

"You think someone killed the bitch?"

Christine's mouth fell open in surprise. "Heather! I know she's not Mother Theresa but she of all people didn't deserve that."

Her friend sighed. "You're right, sorry. But when you told me what happened to your ankle and how she practically humped the owner to get the role really pissed me off. If I were there I would give her a piece of my mind."

"Don't doubt you would," Christine smiled timidly. "But yeah I believed someone killed her. I mean wouldn't she have left a suicide note or something explaining why she was going to do herself in?"

"Uh-huh, from what I gather from _Cops _yes." Heather paused. "So then what happened? I mean, before you wigged out."

"I don't know," she confessed. "All I remember seeing was her blood and then it goes blank. I'm not sure, but I think I heard something before fainting."

"Like what?"

"Something," Christine said, furrowing her brow in concentration. "I've been trying to think of what it was, but I know it gave me the jeepers creepers. Damn, I wish I can remember!"

"So, uh, how's everyone else hanging?"

"Well, you can imagine the uproar this caused. Cat's family wants to sue big time, but Raoul's brother was able to convince them that legal action wasn't going to make her come back, plus it's not fault. Cat stayed after when everyone was gone and somehow someone must have broken in, killed her, and fled without a single trace. Raoul had promised them they would do whatever they can with their resources to find out who did this. Though it's pointless if you ask me. If the police couldn't find anything, then they won't either."

"Do they think it was murder too?"

"The only ones who do are Raoul and Detective Kanye, who's working the case. There apparently has been a history of this kind of action occurring even before Raoul bought the Garnier. But those deaths weren't violent like this. The victims were found strangled to death, not their larynxes torn out."

"Strangled? Basically anyone who died there had something happen to their necks. Christine, are you sure you still want to sing there? I think it might be better if you…"

"No Heather. I'm not thinking of leaving. I made a promise and signed a contract. Even if I did want to leave, I can't, and you know that."

"But surely hunkie French would understand and relieve you from your contract," Heather insisted.

"The answer's no Hea. I'm staying put," Christine said firmly. "Besides," she added slowly. "Raoul's been taking her death hard. I know he wants justice, but I feel bad that he won't be able to."

"Why?"

"Cat and him were involved awhile back."

"WHAT!"

"My reaction exactly but it ended pretty ugly. He proposed and she threw it back in his face. She never loved him like he did her."

"Yikes, I see what you mean. Hey, look on the bright side, here's your chance to snag him."

"Heather—" she began.

"Christine," the exasperation evident in her tone. "Listen, you have been with no one for three years. Don't you think it's time you do something? You sound like you're totally digging this eye-candy Frenchman and he obviously likes you too. So go for it. What do you have to lose?"

"My self respect or job," Christine answered flatly.

"But…"

"But if he asks I'll consider, happy?"

"Immeasurably. Despite the disasters taking place, how's the visions?"

"Worse than ever. I'm having a hard time sleeping and it's," she admitted. "And I've been having nightmares about Cat. In every one I hear this man with this captivating voice singing, lulling Cat somewhere in darkness."

"Like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, or Tom Jones captivating?"

"Try all three combined plus the huskiness of Gerard Butler and you got your man."

The line went quiet and Christine swore she could hear water running in the background. "Damn… is that the same man from your visions?"

"Yes," Christine responded without hesitation. "It sounds like him, though I haven't seen him in these nightmares, unlike the visions. Heather it's too coincidental that the man I dreamed of as a little girl had something to do with Cat's death. It's only memories from a past life! A very scary past life, but still. I haven't dreamt of him in years and now's he back."

"Has he done anything to you in your dreams?"

"No. Not that I can remember. But I know he's there. I _sense _him Heather. In the darkness of my dreams I know he's there, watching… waiting."

_Wait watching? No… it couldn't be. For crissakes I think I'm losing my mind!_

"Waiting for what?" Heather's question interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm not sure. But something."

At that moment, Meg came walking in with a loud greeting.

Christine waved to her and quickly said, "I'll talk to you later Heather. Bye."

"But Chris—"

Christine hung up and scooted over to the kitchen where the aroma of Chinese wafted the entire room. She took a deep inhale of the hot food and grinned. "Smells good."

"I hope you don't mind Chinese for dinner," Meg told her, going to the cupboards for some plates. "Talking to Heather?"

"Hmm? Oh yes. Yes I was." Christine took her plate, sat down, and began to open the containers. The steam from the fried rice shot out as she scooped some of out.

"Did you tell her of the recent tragic events?"

"Yeah. She thinks I should go home," Christine said as she placed a forkful of egg roll into her mouth.

"You're not going to right?" Meg asked, pleading falling in her voice.

Christine swallowed and grinned. "Nope. Not getting rid of me that easy. I'm sticking this one out through and through. Besides my contract is made of steel. Even if I wanted too—"

"Yeah but Raoul would if you asked."

"Meg!" Christine cried as the blonde winked suggestively. "Not you too!"

She giggled. "I'm teasing with you but I'm glad you're not running. I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were dedicated."

The brunette let out a sly smirk. "Told you. Hey, I was wondering, how's your mother faring? I know she was terribly distraught over what happened…"

"Well, if you meant she stopped the robotic religious functions, then no. It's scary actually. I never saw her behave like that not since when my Papa died. That was the first time I saw her break down in sobs and go to church everyday, praying nonstop. Now… I'm not sure what she has running through that head of hers. I caught her earlier today going pass _it's _domain and blessing it with her crucifix. I swore I heard her mumble something about demons and angels. She won't talk to me, which is nothing out of the ordinary, and she's been uptight, as you know with everyone. I don't like it Christine, not one bit."

"Have you tried talking to her about it? Maybe if you bring the topic up she'll open up to you," Christine suggested, taking a sip of her water.

Meg sighed and slouched. "It's not that simple, dear. My mother isn't like other mothers I can tell you that right now. I bet yours wouldn't scare you to death with all sorts of tales about specters and what they do to naughty children. Mine made sure I was fully aware of the Opera Ghost and his ways. Scared the living daylights out of me too. She said if I wasn't paying attention to where I go the Phantom would catch me with his magical lasso, otherwise known as the Punjab lasso."

The singer's mouth dropped in astonishment. "Your mother said that to you!"

"Oh yes, me and the other ballet girls. Worked too as you can imagined. But as I grew older the stories didn't have their usual affect over me and rationality kicked in and no more belief in the Phantom. Those years of innocence and naivety have set sail for good. Can't say the same for the other simpletons who still believed in the stories."

"But what about now? Couldn't there even be the slightest chance that…?"

"No." Meg shook her head. "It was the first time for both of us to see a dead body so we weren't in our right minds of logic. Let them spread what they want. He doesn't exist."

It wasn't the little slip of "he" that Christine noticed, but the normal skepticism that would accompany Meg's façade when she talked about the ghost wasn't there.

xxXXxx

_Trapped. _

_There was no escape. No matter which way she went there was a wall and door._

_Locked. _

_Frenzy panic gripped her in its ugly talons as the harsh reality that this was her life… her decision that led to her straight to the flaming depths of Hell. _

No! It cannot be this! I have to get out of here! Angel! _Were her despairing thoughts as she grasped the doorknob, twisting and turning, praying for it to give and open. _

_"No!" she cried in frustration as the bolt kept her in place. Slamming her small fist into the panel, her anguished flowed through._

"_Let me out! Someone please help!" she began screaming at the top of her lungs, hoping that a compassionate servant would answer her plea._

_But no help arrived. She was stuck. Alone and scared. Like the pitiful creature she had become. _

_You deserve it. If only you had stayed…_

For the third time that night Christine woke. Breathing heavily, she ran a fist through her hair as she stared disturbingly up at the ceiling. _Why can't you leave me alone! _She yelled in her head. _You're supposed to be gone for **good**! _

Frustrated from the lack of sleep, Christine got up and paced furiously in her room trying to get her thoughts in order.

I hate this. No matter how hard I try I keep getting these bloody visions! I never had a problem until I came here. Am I cursed? No, that's silly. But it doesn't explain why I'm getting them and here of all places with an opera house with a haunted history and a possible killer Casper on the loose. Great. Just my luck.

She sat on the edge of her bed and lie down. _Maybe I should go home. At least I know I would get some sleep when I have work the next day. And there's no murders taking place by supernatural beings. Perhaps it would be better if I talk to Raoul. He'll understand that I can't handle this anymore. I mean I got into an accident resulting by breaking my ankle and the once former understudy goes missing and turns up dead. Then I'll take the next flight out to New York, eat a tub of ice cream with Heather, and be in bed by ten without any disturbances. Yeah… _

_What are you talking about leaving? So bad things happened, accidents do occur often. And it was a slight mishap about Cat. She probably got herself into some trouble that no one knew of and she paid the piper. No ghost killed her. It's completely irrational. The dead hurting the living? That's only in movies. This is real life. What about the good things that **did **happen? You made friends with Meg, who's a nice girl and fun to be around. And don't forget little Jamie and Stacey. The preppy girl is beginning to thaw out and warm up to you. You two are actually getting along! And what about Adele? Underneath the hardcore armor, she's really nice and easy to talk to. Plus there's Raoul. He's handsome, single, French, and you guys have so much in common! Would you really leave all of this behind?_

"No. I guess not," she whispered, reasoning to herself. "But what if there's another accident? What if _I'm _the next to suddenly disappear?"

_No you won't. You know that so why even try it as an excuse? No harm would come to you. **He **will never allow it._

"But who is he?" she pondered aloud. "I don't know that for certain. And what if _he _does hurt me unintentionally, then what? I'm doomed when I could have been safe back home."

_But he won't ever. And you are home. This is where you belong. This is where you must live to sing. Sing for him and anything you desire will be yours. He will do anything to give you happiness._

"Happiness…" Christine closed her eyes and sighed. "I _do _want to be happy but could this be wrong? How do I know any of this?" She reopened her eyes and then scowled. "And here I am talking and thinking to myself. I'm losing my mind from all of this talk of the Phantom. He was a poor lonely man who was dealt a bad card in life. He's gone for good so why am I even thinking of him?"

_Because you care… _a dark voice whispered in her head. _And he knows it. There's no need to be afraid. Embrace what your soul craves for, what your heart longs for. Sing and you shall find the euphoria you once felt on the stage when your parents were alive. Sing and he might bring them back to you. Sing for them and they'll answer. Sing for me…_

"Yes," Christine murmured, shutting her eyes once more as the waves of exhaustion swept over her. "I'll sing…"

Yawning quite loudly Christine stretched out over the bed and allowed herself to drift into a deep slumber, while a pair of amber coals glowed brightly protectively overhead.

xxXXxx

**A Week Later**

"Hey, I want to owe you another gratitude of thanks Phil. You're the man you know that? Uh-huh, okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Raoul shut his cell phone and beamed. "I swear, Adele, that brother of mine is a lifesaver."

The older woman smirked knowingly. "Oh yes he is. I believe he has saved your hide more often than I can count."

"Yeah but those were minor details. This… this was _huge_. But at least it's over and a deal was settled with the Giovanni's. Seeing how the police are baffled and have no leads to go on, we're compensating by dedicating the opening night in Cat's honor and giving free seats to the family. I know we would be losing profit from those seats, but I don't care about the money. Their happy and the lawsuit has dropped."

"Four weeks," Adele said. "My dancers are finally getting it right and I pray to God that there will be no mess ups."

"I doubt it. You manage to pull the girls in before the curtain rises," Raoul told her. "Everything will be fine."

"Of course." She paused and studied her boss closely. After the ordeal Raoul's been handling the truth of Cat's death… almost well. He wasn't sulking or lamenting of what could have been like he did when she broke up with him. To an outsider, it would appear her death hadn't fazed him in the least bit. But she knew better. Raoul could try to disguise his feelings but those who knew him best could see right through him. And she could read him like a book.

"M. de Chagny, I'm going to be frank with you. I'm worried."

"Worried? Adele whatever for? Look we just went over how the show will—"

"It's not that sir," she interrupted. "Not everything has to relate to the opera or this theatre for me to be worried. Like most, I do have a life and I take special interest to those that I am close to."

"If it's about Meg, Adele," Raoul started, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not the guy to go to for advice with mother-daughter things."

"Oh for Pete's sake," Adele groaned. "I'm talking about you, not Megara! And why would there be a problem with my daughter? She can talk to me about anything and I'll listen. I hope for your sake you're not implying that I have problems with Meg all the time."

Raoul suck in his breath and shook his head. "Of course not, madam. I wouldn't—didn't mean to imply… what I mean is that…"

She raised her hand to quiet him as they passed the doors of the auditorium. "Forget it Monsieur and please don't ever call me 'madam'. You know how I hate formalities."

"Yes, of course. Sorry Adele."

She laughed. "Men. What I was getting at was about Signora Giovanni."

"Oh."

"You're taking this awfully well and I can't help but be concern."

Raoul mumbled something unintelligible and forced a weary grin. "Adele, I miss her. I know we had ended on rough terms but a part of me will miss what we had shared and question why this happened. Yeah Cat wasn't the greatest but I _did _love her. I still do, maybe not as much as I did before, but I do care for her."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Adele pointed out to the young man.

Raoul scoffed at the idea. "That's preposterous Adele. I loved Cat, I did propose didn't I?"

"Yes but love isn't always what we think. Perhaps at one point you _did _love Signora that you _did _want her as your wife, but would it have honestly worked out? You knew how she was before you were dating and you're not the type to go off and have flings. She could have never committed to you, you know that yet when it was over you were mourning over the ideal of what she could have become if she let you change her for the best. You fell in love with the Signora you created in your head and not the actual person Monsieur."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Raoul growled. "Why would you even say this?"

"Because I know you," she replied straightforwardly. "And I noticed how you admire Mlle Dawson from afar, even if you're to thick-headed to recognize it. You won't allow yourself to move on."

"Must we discuss my love life now?" Raoul hissed, his voice dropping a few notches so no one could overhear. "I know how I feel. I don't need anyone to tell me."

"Yes you do," Adele snapped, her tone once maternal now growing authoritative and rough. "I may be in my prime, **sir**, but I'm not blind, senile, or a fool. If you knew this then you would have noticed how she looks towards you with favor and adoration. She's young, and yes a bit naïve, but she's intelligent and a remarkable young woman to have come this far. She lost her parents to unfortunate deaths and she continued to live on in their memories through her voice. If you don't do anything you will live to regret that decision for not daring to chance another relationship. You cannot hide from your feelings, M. de Chagny. It's unnatural and I believe you're behaving like a fool for having a petty woman such as Signora Giovanni holding you back from meeting an incredible brilliant woman who will make you happy. The choice is yours to make and if you decide to wallow in your fear of intimacy from a lousy feline then so be it. Don't go crawling to me whining about your loneliness."

With that said, Adele Garrison turned on her heels and hurried off back to the stage. Raoul stood in the hall by himself, dumbfounded and awed. No one had ever spoken to him like that, not ever. Well, except his father when he announced his decision of purchasing the Garnier, but even then Raoul allowed his words to flow over him. He didn't need to listen to his old man, especially when he knew that this was what he wanted. Yet, Adele brought up the sensitive topic that he, himself, tried to keep locked away.

Yes, he knew he shouldn't let Cat run his life. Yes, he knew Christine was different. But he couldn't let his own damn pride get hurt again.

But that wasn't the only reason. There was more to it than what Adele said, and she hit pretty close to home. Raoul wasn't afraid to commit, like most men, in fact all he ever wanted in life was to find the right woman to spend the rest of his life with. But with Christine… he was _terrified_ by his feelings.

Adele didn't know that he secretly attended every single rehearsal just to see Christine. Even when she couldn't practice because of her ankle, she would still go and he would watch her. Let it be from the wings, hidden by the props, or up in one of the private boxes. He was enchanted by her beauty and good nature. He couldn't stay away from her and that _mortified _him.

The situation became too dangerous when he started to notice the little, simple attributes about her. Like when she was amused, how her liquid hazel orbs would twinkle and her lips would quirk up at the corners. And when she would laugh, the sweetest sound would escape through her ruby lips! And when she was reading the script, she would bite her lower lip in deep concentration, one eyebrow would be raised while the other furrowed in her pensive stare.

Then he realized he needed to stay away. Try hard as he might, whenever rehearsals were going under, Raoul would still find himself passing the doors of the auditorium or the dressing room hall hoping to hear her laugh or her speaking to her friends.

But there was more. From the moment they met, there had been a feeling of familiarity. And when he started to pick up on her habits, there had been a rush of renewed attraction. It was almost that momentarily he forgotten about these minor details and once he remembered one the rest came flooding back to him. He inwardly knew that when Christine was sad, she cried. It didn't matter how silly the reason would be. She would.

That knowledge without seeing it firsthand was unsettling. How in the world did he know that? He tried to keep his distance from her and this time he did. Though Adele had to go and mention it.

He knew the older woman meant well. But this was eating him alive. Was Christine going through the same? Or was it him?

He never went through this with Cat. When Raoul fell in love with her it just happened. He looked at her one day and thought she was the one he would marry. And now… now when he looks at Christine there's something deep, wonderful that causes his heart to soar. Could this be what love feels? It must be there was no other explanation. Yet did she feel the same way?

Was Adele right when she said how Christine looks at him? Did she admire him? Okay, what if she did that doesn't mean she liked him. Or did she?

Raoul was growing tired of this guessing game. Maybe Adele was right. Maybe he should take the initiative and risk it. That way he won't regret it for the rest of his life. But then there's Cat.

The news of her death hit hard and he drowned his sorrows through vodka in his apartment. She was his first love and a part of him would always mourn for her. The funeral was tough but he couldn't stay as long as he would have liked because of her family. Philip had been there with him, and he was thankful for the company.

Though the truth of her mysterious death was still opened. The theatre had been swept clean for any evidence and strangely enough there still was nothing. Raoul was beginning to think that maybe… just maybe this wasn't what appeared to be.

Tremors crawled up his spine as he thought about how poor Jamie came upon Cat. She said she was somehow brought to the dressing room by a man's voice. It had been so ethereal and entrancing that Jamie followed willingly to the call. It was then the spell abruptly ended once she laid eyes on the body of the former Catarina.

Jamie couldn't have made this up. She was known for her wild tales, yes, but she had been terribly shaken over the encounter. No one could strongly react like this if it had been a ploy. They would have to be too good of an actor, and Jamie's skills were lacking.

_It's nonsense_, Raoul tried reasoning. _It's crazy yet it makes sense. First Maria and now Cat. Would Christine be next?_

He trembled. There were whispers of the Phantom supposedly favoring the soprano. It could be why his wrath had been evoked once Cat replaced her. _He _was telling Raoul something and he ignored the warnings. Adele had warned him about this before and looked at what happened. Perhaps this could have been avoided…

_Can't look back now_, he thought to his dismay. _Besides if I **did** try Cat wouldn't listen. She never was bothered by him before so she wouldn't think he would now. Oh God what have I done?_

But no one could give him an answer.

TBC…


	11. Chp 10: Meg Finds Out

A/N: Special thanks to misscemo for Chapter 9's title suggestion! Sorry it took so long for an update, but I've been busy with Physics homework. I'm done for now…There's a little of Erik in this chapter and now we're at the point where he will make some more appearances (ghostly, of course). And Raoul will take the big step in asking Christine out soon! Thank you to my lovely reviewers and my beta Megan. I hope many of you will also go and check out my new story, _A Deadly Obsession_. Thanks and don't forget to review!

**Chapter 10- Meg Finds Out**

She couldn't help it. There was no explanation as to why she was there, but she was.

Christine stood in front of the wooden door where Cat Giovanni was discovered. She told herself to forget the grotesque image, but she couldn't. Whenever her eyes closed, she could see Cat floating down the hall and into this room while someone reached out for her throat…

Swallowing thickly, she opened the door and took a few tentative steps inside.

The pungent smell of dust balls and ancient decay stung her nostrils, practically choking her. The room was cleaned when the police searched through it, but now it returned back to its own dismal state of stillness. She averted any attention away from the mirror. She didn't want to think about Cat while she was in here.

Christine walked forward, her hand outstretched to wipe off the new collection of dust settling on the antique vanity. Cobwebs decorated the mirrors while the glass was covered in dust.

She pulled out the little chair tucked in and after brushing off the dust she sank into the cushion. Brown eyes flicking upwards, her reflection was foggy and distorted, but a quick swipe with her hand brought out the nearly perfect vision. She smiled to herself as she could almost hear the people passing by to and fro, preparing for a grand gala.

Shaking her head, Christine got up and moved around. When she and Meg were in here, she didn't have much of a chance to notice the appearance and articles throughout. The original color was still intact with a few new furnishings added after the restoration. Amazingly, the room didn't seem to come in contact with the horrendous fire that engulfed the theatre long ago. It was untouchable.

Fighting back a shiver, Christine took in the majestic room with a feeling of belonging. It was so beautiful from deep ruby red on the ceiling and wall, the torn flowery wallpaper taking over the bottom parts. Too bad it had to go to waste. Christine was sure if it were in use she would love to have it.

She could envision the costumes off to the side, flowers and gifts from adoring fans adorning every space and corner, the walls draped with paintings and posters. It would be so full of life.

She wondered what Christine Daae was like. What was she like as a person? Was she the girl next door or the local shrew? Would she run in here to escape from the pressures of her affair with the Phantom? Would the Phantom even be in here, waiting for her?

_I wonder if there's a portrait lying about_, Christine thought as she scanned the room. It would be respectable to the former who once occupied this room to have their picture left for others to admire and idolize. She turned towards the vanity to find an object sticking out from behind. _Bingo._

She went over and pulled the expanse-covered bulk out. It was heavy but Christine managed to waddle it over to the settee on the other side of the room. Taking a deep breath, she heaved the painting on top and laid it against the back. She uncovered the bottom part to which was a dark mahogany frame with a small silver plaque in the middle. Christine kneeled down and carefully wiped the dust casing it. The tiny cursive script showed the letters D-A-A-E.

"Raoul's great-great grandmother," she half whispered, half aloud. Just by staring at the plaque, queasiness began to build up. "She was probably the Phantom's lover," Christine mused. Curiosity started to make its appearance and she desperately needed to see her face.

With speed and caution, Christine tugged the tarp off and flung it to the floor. Dust exploded into her face, making Christine cough excessively as she swatted the floating particles away. Now she was able to take a good look at her.

For what she could make out, the figure had a slim figure, dressed in a pale pink dress sitting on a bench. The face, however, she couldn't see. Christine leaned closer and as her eyes began to focus, a low moan came from behind.

Startled, Christine jumped back and slowly turned her head over her shoulder. Nothing moved and there was nobody near.

Relaxing and chuckling anxiously at her silly behavior, Christine was about to study the portrait once more until a light flickering grabbed her attention. It was coming from the life-size mirror.

She rose, trembling in her legs, and with a bravery she never knew existed she went straight over to the mirror. The police must have not sealed it completely, as the same crack Christine discovered before was glowing. Bending down, she rested her nails in between the gap and set her palm on the glass. She shook. The surface of the glass was ice cold.

Staying, another distant memory, long forgotten reared its ugly head—

_The brand-new extravagant chandelier had fell to its doom. She scrambled to the stage, searching for her beloved Voice among the wounded and dead._

No! No! _she thought frantically._ Please! My Angel, please be alive!

_She gave up, realizing how fruitless it would be to look for a body she didn't even know looked like. Tears clung to her eyelashes as she fled to her haven—her dressing room. There was hope in her naïve and innocent heart that her Angel would be safe, and waiting for her to guide her from this horrible tragedy._

_She collapsed onto the floor, crying and praying for the Voice to come and take her away._

_"My Angel!" she wailed. "Come to me please!"_

_As if hearing her despondent plea, the pitiful strings of_ The Resurrection of Lazarus _began to pour through the walls and the voice! The heavenly voice she depended on for shelter cried out to her:_

_"Come! And believe in me!"_

_Her tears stopped cascading down her pink cheeks, and she slowly stood, arms outstretched, her mouth parted in awe._

_"Come to me! My Angel of Music, come!"_

_He called to her, as the violin seemed to fill the room, its musical spell taking over her. Entranced, she began moving towards the spot where the music was… closer… closer to the mirror. Closer she came to the Voice, her Angel… closer… closer to the darkness that waited…_

Christine pushed herself away from the mirror, her chest rising excessively as the memory vividly replayed in her head. Chandelier… voice… Angel of Music…

She shook her head furiously; hoping that alone would force the unwanted vision to go away. Her hands were slightly quivering, her ears echoing the haunting melody. That had been too real for comfort. It was almost like she was there. Actually there as the voice beckoned for her.

"You're being silly," she whispered. "No way a vision could be that true."

_Christine…_

Her head jerked up towards the mirror, her pulse racing. That voice! It was the one from her dreams! And it sounded like…

_Christine, come to me…_

Christine stood on shaky legs and as she took a step forward, she stopped and pulled back. What was she doing? Was she going to go to some disembodied voice? For all she knew, this could be another vision that she hadn't awakened from. That had to be it. It had to.

Except the room's temperature had dropped to below freezing. And that had never happened before.

_Christine…. come…_

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts. No… she couldn't. She mustn't. Yet, the voice was so… alluring. How could she resist something so powerful? So dark and mysterious?

The cold was no longer bothering her, as heat rushed through her veins, pooling at very core. She moved once, practically feeling the warm sensations vibrating from the sheet of glass. Surely it wouldn't hurt to obey? She took another step, a baby one, her hand held up to reach for the invisible being… until…

Raoul.

A brief image of the owner flashed through her eyes, the force she needed to stop her from going further. His kind blue eyes, his flaxen hair, and his smile! That husky and sensuous voice that rolls her name off his tongue… No. She can't, she wouldn't.

_Come…_

"No," Christine said firmly. "No!"

An agonizing scream came through, rattling the walls and blowing her eardrums, from the refusal as she covered her ears, wincing.

The light that had been flickering from behind blew out, the screaming stopped, and everything was silent.

Breathing hard, Christine lowered her hands and nervously stared at the mirror. Whatever it was was gone. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in relief. Thank God…

**Crack!**

Christine's eyes popped open as jagged zigzag lines grew steadily fast on the glass. Her feet remained rooted, paralyzed in fear as the cracks met at the center point. Then nothing. Silence.

Christine let out a soft sigh…

The glass shattered, the sharps ends targeting towards the brunette, reflecting her petrified expression as a blood-curdling scream flew from her lips…

"Christine! Wake up!"

Reality came crashing down in tidal waves as her eyes flew open, gasping for air. Disoriented, she frantically twisted her head around, her thoughts racing. Where am I? Oh God where am I?

"Christine!"

She was roughly hoisted up by her shoulders, gaping into Meg's scared blue eyes.

"Meg?" Christine asked in broken whisper.

"Oh God!" Meg cried, holding her tightly. "I heard you screaming… and… and I tried to wake you up and you weren't moving hardly… and I was so scared! You kept screaming 'No' and oh damn I didn't know what to do!" The blonde sobbed, continuing to hug her fiercely.

Her head foggy, and her eyes glazed over in a daze, it took a moment for her mind to work properly. She was in the dressing room still. Christine Daae's dressing room… and Meg was there, squeezing the life out of her. Clearing her throat, Christine found her arms, hands, and legs numb and if Meg hadn't been holding her, no doubt she would have been a puddle on the floor. Eventually, she saw the mirror and cried in surprise.

The glass was smooth, no cracks and no opening to the secret passageway was visible. What the…? She thought, and her eyes widened when the hefty portrait she had laid on the settee wasn't there. Twice she closed her eyes and opened them, almost hoping her mind was playing a trick on her and it was there. But it wasn't as her body shuddered involuntary.

Suddenly, Meg pushed her aside, the worried look now replaced with anger. "Why in Hell are you doing in here! Have you lost your bloody mind?"

"I…um…" Her mouth couldn't form the words.

"Out with it!" Meg shouted her crystal blue irises now darkened in a stormy fury. "You shouldn't be here after everything that has happened! And what were you doing? Were you trying to give me a heart attack, cuz I was this damn close!"

"Meg I'm sor—"

"Always sorry Christine, huh?" Meg interrupted sardonically. "Let me tell you, this isn't funny! You better give a good explanation for this and none of the 'I don't know' crap understand? I'm tired of that excuse. There is something going on and you know it!"

Christine bit her lower lip hard, trying not to let the tears well up. Meg was right. She deserved to know the truth, honestly she did, after all the kindness she had given to her and the blossoming friendship they made. Yet she couldn't bring herself to. Why couldn't she just tell the truth and be done with it?

At her silence, Meg scowled and turned away from her, taking a few steps. She stopped and coldly said, "Obviously you're hiding it Christine, why I don't know, and probably will never know."

Before she could walk out, Christine ran over, grabbing the agitated girl's shoulder. "Meg wait!"

Sighing in frustration, Meg turned and crossed her arms. "What?"

Tears overflowed Christine's brown eyes and she didn't have the strength to prevent them. "I-I'll tell you Meg. But try to understand why I kept this to myself." Christine nervously glanced around, the hairs standing on ends on the back of her neck. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn she was being watched…

"Not here," Christine whispered, "Anywhere but here. It's not safe, at the moment."

Meg's stern features began to wash away with a concern curiosity. But at Christine's strange request, her blonde eyebrow rose up her forehead. "All right. But it better be good than 'I don't know'."

xxXXxx

"And just then when you woke me I was experiencing another memory, but also at the same time a surreal dream. In both I was being called by a voice, a dark sensuous voice. It was… breathtaking and beautiful. I was helpless and I couldn't control myself as I went towards the source, the mirror. Yet somehow I was able to gain some sense to pull back before it was too late."

Meg sat back on the couch with an amazed expression. "Damn."

"Then the mirror was cracking and exploded. The pieces would have killed me if you haven't showed up when you did," Christine finished with a thankful grin. "I guess after everything I owe you this. But now do you see why I didn't tell anyone?"

Meg nodded accordingly, despite the questions lingering in her eyes. Christine knew Meg wanted to know more, but that's all she knew. There was nothing else to explain. Why she was having these dreams, a superior force could answer. Until then there were only unspoken questions.

"Wow… Christine… I mean wow," Meg said, shaking her mixed curls. "If I didn't know you were speaking the truth, I would have thought this was some bizarre Stephen King book."

"So I've heard," the brunette replied, good-naturedly, lightening the mood. Becoming solemn, Christine eyed her warily. "Now this is never to be spoken to anyone. Not one living soul."

"You have my word!" Meg promised, crossing her heart. "Something like this I can see why you would want it to be kept private. Don't worry. No one will ever know, not from me."

"Good." Relief swept over her and for the second time, Christine could feel that crushing weight being lifted off her chest again. She beamed and laughed heartily. "You have no idea how wonderful this feels!"

"I think I have a pretty good idea." Meg winked, laughing herself. "But I'm glad you now confided in me. I would hate to see you suffering alone with this burden."

"Heather knew. And that's only because like you, she caught me stuck in one. I don't really remember the exact detail of it, but all I know it was horrifying that I ended up screaming as well."

"I'm sorry." There was true sincerity in her tone that made Christine smile softly. "Me too. But it's my own Hell I have to deal with for the time being. And who knows? Maybe this will go away…"

"What if it doesn't?" Meg asked. "Think about it. Doesn't it seem like of odd that you been having these past memories as soon as you arrived here? Are you sure you had no relatives from France?"

"Positive," Christine answered firmly.

"Then… oh no." The color from Meg's face drained away.

Panic gripped the brunette at the sudden silence. "What?"

"Christine…" Meg flapped her hands wildly about. "The voice! It makes sense!"

"What does?" she asked stupidly.

"The Phantom! From the way you described it to me, it sounds like Maman's stories about Christine Daae. She, too, heard a voice that was so beautiful it was almost… ethereal."

Christine gulped. "Y-you don't think it has anything to do with me?"

"It adds up Christine. As much as I hate to admit this, but I think Jamie is right. He might exist!"

The girls shivered uncontrollably as an omnipotent chill settled around them.

xxXXxx

It was a warm evening and Raoul felt he was overdue for a jog.

Starting off with a brisk pace, he ran over to the Jardins de Tuileries taking in the lovely sight of the grounds in the starry night. The park was empty save for a few night joggers.

He went over to a bench and sat down to take a break. It never ceased to amaze him how the tranquility of it all made him forget the problems in his life. In all of Paris this was the only place he could think without anyone driving a knife down his throat. Time would stop and the world consisted of just him.

It was also a very romantic spot. This was where his father proposed to his mother and where Raoul would propose to his future bride. It seemed like ages when he and Cat walked down this very same path…

The memory of what should have been the happiest moment of his life turned up the opposite. After he had gotten down on one knee and asked for her hand, Cat came out with the flat response of "no" and why. It was over between them. She never wanted to be in a serious relationship and sorry that she led him on.

Shaking his head, Raoul forced himself to think of something else. And who else but Christine Dawson wheedled in, causing a smile to sprout on his lips.

She was something indeed. Christine possessed a soul and heart of goodness that was hard to come by in this day and age. And for all of it, he knew he could never find another quite like her. Though he was positive no woman could ever replace Christine in a man's life.

He thought more on what Adele said and in her own irritable way, knew she was right. He shouldn't sit around and mope over a woman who obviously had no intentions of a future with him and let that ruin a chance for happiness. Maybe he should take that leap of faith. He was a daring young man, his life was still out in front of him, so why not?

Leaning on the wooden back, Raoul grinned. If Christine should refuse him, then he would know where they stood and therefore couldn't regret it. It sounded simple enough, but Raoul was certain that if that was the case his heart would definitely break and who knows how long it would take for him to get over another rejection?

_I have my theatre and friends. But that alone won't suffice to my dreams_, he thought. But not asking because of his insecurity wouldn't be the way to go. No. And he won't regret it for the rest of his life like Adele said. After all, he was a bit of a daredevil.

Raoul jumped on his feet feeling more determine than ever. Yes he will cross the threshold and conquer his fears. He will do this and forget Cat. She wasn't the one and he shouldn't hold onto a ghost anymore.

He began running again; his head no longer clouded with self-doubt, but instead a vigorous joy of revelations.

xxXXxx

Fear struck the very core in her. Upon waking, she found herself tied to the bed, her bondages so tight that the circulation was cut off.

_Terrified, she struggled with the bonds but it was no use. She was too weak and her captor made sure escape was impossible. How long had she been there? Hours… days? Time lost its meaning to her while stuck in this prison._

_Hot tears coursed down her cheeks and inwardly cursed herself for allowing this. None of this would have happened if she had--_

_The door swung open and a dark figure silently stalked in. _

**Bang!**

_The only means to flee were gone once the door was shut and bolted behind. _

_She couldn't help it. Her sobs and pleas came out at once, but he heard none of it. His piercing gaze ravished the helpless state she was in, making her shudder with repulse, hatred, and appending dread of where this would lead too._

"_My love," he breathed, as he sat on the bed, leaning forward to cup her breast…_

"_Monster," she spat, a courage she never showed until now appeared. She wriggled from his grasp, trying to get far away from his dirty hands. Yet those ties held in her place and the realization of her fears coming to surface overridden the brief act of bravery. _

_He chuckled deeply from within his chest, as he resumed in touching her. "Have no fear my pet. I'm not going to hurt you, you know I never will."_

_The weight from the mattress was gone and for a second relief flooded through her. It was short-lived._

_The soft thud of his clothing falling to the floor echoed in her eardrums as the sickening feeling once more arose. No! No!_

"_One day you'll love me and he will be nothing but a memory," he cooed as the warm comfort of her gown was being stripped off of her. _

"_No," she whispered, again shrinking away as he began to cover her naked body with his own._

_With his hands placed on either side of her head, his body pressed firmly into her, he held her look as he assaulted her petite form. "You're mine forever."_

_The sudden intense pain gripped her, choking the very life of her as she cried out in shame and disgust. Harder and faster he went, punishing her and her heart._

_So this was how her life will be? A slave to his primal lust that was once a pure love now driven to the brinks of madness? _

Forgive me please, my love! _she prayed, as his weight crushed and suffocated her._

_Later, she drifted off into the welcoming oblivion of darkness and emptiness. At least there she was safe and away from this horrid place and with **Erik**._

TBC…

Oooo... I wonder what might happen next. Don't forget to review!


	12. Chp 11: A Ghost's Seduction

A/N: The person raping Christine was Raoul as explained in Ch. 4- An Unexpected Surprise. But the future Christine doesn't know yet and will later put two and two together later. Now this is my favorite chapter! Dark Erik does come into play and he's a bit frisky, shall we say? Hee hee.

My beta won't be able to edit this anymore so if anyone is interested in betaing this, then please tell me in a review or send me an email with "Beta- Promise" as the subject. Thank you and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 11- The Ghost's Seduction**

Rehearsals were long and Christine was thankful that Roberts called for a half-hour break. Right away she told Meg about the dream she had the other night. When Christine relayed the details of the rape, she quivered as the images came flooding back in front of her eyes. In the morning her pelvis had been sore, as if she experienced the ordeal. But there was no evidence she could detect that showed it. Though stranger things had been known to happen so this wasn't out of the ordinary.

Meg frowned. "Were you able to get a look at the bastard's face?"

Christine shook her dark curls. "It was too dark. But I _knew _him."

Her friend couldn't suppress the audible shudder. "I don't know how you put up with these, but be glad it was a dream."

"Not quite," Christine said. "It's a memory and I was reliving it through a dream. But at the end was strange. Before I slipped away a name entered my thoughts. This is the first time I was able to learn a name and remember it afterwards. Perhaps it's a sign."

"What was it?"

"It was E—"

"Hey guys!" Stacey cheerfully announced before plopping down next to Christine. Glancing at their sorrow expressions, Stacey raised a thin eyebrow. "Why the gloomy faces?"

Christine looked over to Meg before returning her attention to the ballet dancer. "Nothing. I was telling Meg this bad dream I had last night."

"Oh. It's only a dream it's not like it's going to hurt you or anything so lighten up," Stacey reprimanded both. "Geesh."

"Yeah," Christine nervously laughed. _If only she knew…_

"So anyways I need to know, what's going on between you and M. de Chagny?"

Christine almost choked. "W-what?"

"You heard me. Since you showed up he's been hanging around rehearsals all the time, haven't you noticed?" At both of their open-mouth expressions, Stacey went on. "It's true. I believe someone likes someone and I need details."

"There's… for Heaven's sake Stacey he's my boss," Christine said. "There's nothing between us that isn't professional."

"Uh-huh sure." The dancer wasn't convinced. "He's looking over here right now. And by the looks of it, he's hungry for a Yankee."

"Just because he's looking over here doesn't mean he's directing it to me," Christine replied flatly, but turned around to humor her. Sure enough, Raoul was standing by one of the technicians across the stage, going over some orders about the lights when he glanced over and smiled at Christine.

She blushed a pale pink and returned to her friends, who were trying hard not to laugh. "You guys are mean you know that?" The brunette retorted.

"C'mon! He's completely nuts over you. Hey, think about the special attention you can get." Stacey winked and nudged Christine's shoulder. "If I were you, I would go over and provide a little sample."

Christine's face grew even redder and Meg burst out laughing. The singer shot her friend a deathly glare, which only made her laugh even harder. "Sorry Chris! But you have to see the look on your face."

"I rather not," she mumbled. Stacey chuckled and shook her head. "Okay maybe you won't do that, but I certainly would. The innocent trying to seduce Mr. Hot Manager, now that's something I would like to see."

"Enough please!" Christine sighed. "We're friends, _period_. Nothing more."

"Moral aren't we?" Stacey teased. "But seriously, I think he has it bad for you. Remember when the backdrop fell and how quickly he became irritated that you were hurt? Or how about when he was desperate to keep you here, even though Cat took over and the time when—"

"Okay, I get the picture. Maybe he does have a crush on me. So? A crush is harmless."

"Here that Meg? She thinks a crush is harmless." The two blondes shared a look and giggled. "Please, he's waiting to make his move. Things between him and Cat messed up real bad and he doesn't want an encore. So instead, he's going to lay low and wait for the opportune moment to strike."

Before Christine could object, Meg interjected. "I wholly concur with Stacey. Even my mother noticed some changes in him and they center around you, _ma amie_."

"Let's say hypothetically, you're right. Doesn't mean it will work out," the brunette pointed out. "Face it, I'm not as 'high class' as Cat's family."

"Oh ye of little faith." Stacey smirked.

"Be serious! There's no way Raoul would—"

Christine's voice trailed off as soon as Meg and Stacey began to grin. Gulping, Christine tilted her head up and gasped. "Raoul! Hi!"

"Hi Christine," Raoul answered and sat beside her. Looking over at Meg and Stacey, he nodded to them.

"We'll let you two be. We have to do some stretches before rehearsals starts up again," Meg told them, poking at Stacey to get up.

"Err, yeah. You know how Mme Garrison can be," Stacey replied weakly. She stood up and winked at Christine before scampering off.

She fought the urge to go after and strangle them, but found her legs not cooperating at the moment. She cast another smile to Raoul before making her feet an interesting study.

"You did great this morning," he said breaking the awkward silence.

"Oh? Um… thanks. Though I think I was little off-key." _Idiot._

He looked at her in surprise. "Nonsense! I've been watching and you were spectacular."

Christine couldn't help but blush at his comment. "Thank you," she squeaked softly.

Ever since Meg and Stacey brought up his possible infatuation with her, Christine wasn't sure how to act anymore. She liked him, yes, she came to terms with that long ago, but would he still be interested in her if he should find out what torments her night and day? And that dream the other night… somehow that person that raped "her" was someone familiar. An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach and right now she wanted to be far away from him as possible!

_No! What are you thinking about? Raoul was not that man in your dream! He would never hurt a hair on you you know that! So what if you saw him before in your visions? That doesn't mean he's the one from last night. It could be that man of darkness. Yes… that had to be him! But who the Hell is Erik? And why do I want to be with him so badly? This doesn't make any sense at all. Damn it all!_

"Christine?"

"Hmm?" She shook her head, casting away her thoughts. She was being silly to think Raoul had anything to do with her dream.

"I was wondering if you would like me to show you around my city?"

His question grabbed her attention. She did a double take. "P-pardon?"

Raoul shifted nervously. "You know… on a date? If not, then I understand and I apologize if I made you uncom—"

"NO!" she exclaimed, startling him with her outburst. "I mean, I would like that very much Raoul. But with opening night around the corner, I'm not sure if M. Roberts would give me the time off."

Raoul considered this and then smiled brightly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Don't worry about Roberts. Everyone's been working hard and I think a day off would do wonders."

"A day? You mean a **whole **day?" Christine gasped, astounded. _Could he even do that?_

_Well, duh, Christine. He does own the place_, that sardonic voice mocked her.

"Yes. That is unless you want to work." His tone took on a playful note.

"I suppose a day wouldn't hurt," Christine replied shyly. "Yes I would do like to go out with you M. de Chagny."

His smile, if possible, grew even wider. "Terrific! I'll talk to Roberts and everything will be set. How does tomorrow around eight sound? Or is that too early?"

"Eight's perfect." Christine couldn't believe it! She was going on a date with Raoul! Oh, she was going to kill Stacey and Meg for being right. After she brags about the date first, of course.

"Good. I'll see you then." Raoul walked off, enthusiasm and excitement showing through his gait.

Christine was in awe over what happened that she didn't notice her friends' return.

"So what did he say?" Stacey was the first to jump the gun.

Christine glanced up at them and beamed. "He asked me out!"

Both squealed with delight and pulled Christine up for a hug. "I knew it!" Meg cried.

"What do you guys have planned?" Stacey asked.

"He's going to show me around Paris." Christine couldn't stop grinning. She was excited. Her! Of all people, she was the one Raoul wanted.

"How much I envy to be in your place," Stacey sighed, shaking her head. "I'm going to be straightforward with you Christine, but I'm now living through your eyes. Do not disappoint us with the details."

She laughed. "I promise I'll tell you right away when it's over." Meg squealed once more and crushed her friend in her embrace again. "I told you Christine. Didn't I?"

"Yes you did Meg." Christine was elated and anxious at the same time. Tomorrow's going to take forever to come, but she was looking forward to next step in her relationship with Raoul. How long had she hoped this would come? _I can't wait to call Heather! She's going to die after I tell her this._

Little did she know another already was.

xxXXxx

"To Christine Dawson one helluva lucky gal," Stacey toasted, raising her glass of lemonade. "Let's pray for more future dates and early dismissals."

Raoul had been in such high spirits that he ordered Roberts not only for the day off the next, but cut rehearsal short for today as well. Stacey and Meg would not stop bugging Christine that if she hadn't said yes they would still be on stage sweating with blood.

"Now you can definitely tell your friends back home that finding romance in Paris is true," Meg remarked.

"You guys," Christine shook her head, laughing. "What if I've said no?"

"Then I would kick your stupid arse all the way back to New York," Stacey replied. "Why would anyone want to say no?"

"Just testing. I never realized until now how much of a slave driver Roberts is," Christine commented, taking a drink from her Coke.

"If he had it his way, no one would be leaving the theatre. I could see it as a _Twilight Zone _episode," Stacey responded.

"Yeah. Or what about the Phantom?" Meg added. "Could you imagine the past coming to life?"

Christine didn't reply, but took another sip of her soda. Meg noticed this and mouth "sorry" once she realized what her words meant to her. Stacey didn't pay any attention to the awkward silence that fell upon the table. "Well, girls, as much as I like to continue to hang with you, I have a hot date to get ready for."

"It's only four thirty," Meg said.

"Yeah but I want to drop by and visit Jamie. Since she broke her toe, she's been under the weather. Poor thing. Hasn't had much luck lately, huh?" Stacey chuckled slightly while getting up. "I'll talk to you later."

"All right. Tell Jamie we said hi and hope she feels better," Meg called out to her friend. When the dancer was gone, Meg shook her head and looked at Christine. "Look, I didn't mean to imply—"

"It's okay. Really," Christine insisted. "Forget it was ever said."

Meg nodded, concern written in her eyes. "If you say so. God, I can be an idiot at times."

Christine smirked softly and took another mouthful of her drink. "Look on the bright side. We're out early."

"Yeah thanks to your boyfriend, girl. Didn't I tell you he liked you? And you were saying how he wouldn't notice you. Shame."

"You were right, yes, but I seriously thought I wasn't his type. I don't have good luck when it comes to men. Ask anyone and they'll say Dawson is a dunce."

"It can't be that bad," Meg told her.

"Oh yeah? Twice I was cheated on and a few times I was dumped because I wouldn't put out. I mean how dumb is that? I have my own integrity that I want to live to and I'm not going to jump into bed with a man on a first date. Or any date unless I know he's the one."

"And do you know if he's the one?" Meg asked.

Christine shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe some heavenly light and a choir of angels singing, 'Alleluia', or time stops and bam. Love at first sight."

"Did you get any of that with M. de Chagny?" The blonde couldn't resist, a light thin brow rising.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll wait and see how it goes." Christine smiled. "He's sweet, nice, caring. And he has this way of making you feel safe and comfortable, no matter how much of a fool you may make yourself look like. And his eyes. Have you ever noticed how deep they are? So full of thoughts and emotions you could get lost in…"

"Sounds like you have it bad. Real bad." Meg winked. "Aw!"

"Don't get any ideas Meg. I like him but I doubt I'm in love—" Christine was cut off as a blast of artic wind shot through the brunette, her glass blown off the table spilling the contents everywhere.

"W-what t-the H-hell was t-that?" Christine's teeth clattered, as she held herself.

The blonde did the same, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "I'm not sure. But let's go home."

"O-okay." Christine jumped up and hurried behind Meg. Something wasn't right about that wind. They were the only ones hit by it, Christine had noticed. No one had been affected.

Running briskly past the café, neither saw the pair of golden sparks glowing dangerously in the bushes.

xxXXxx

_This is more like it. A hot shower is the cure for stress_.

Grinning to herself, Christine turned on the water letting the flow run on her fingers until reaching the desired temperature. She lifted the tab so the water could pour from the spout overhead and quickly shed off her clothes, throwing them into a small heap on the floor.

Stepping inside, Christine exhaled deeply once her body hit the steaming power. Already the magic was doing its wonders, her muscles loosening and relaxing. Outside, she could hear Meg on the phone and laughed softly. After coming back from the café, both had been slightly shaken up. Christine knew the only way to calm herself was a shower while Meg took up phone therapy with another dancer at the Garnier. _To each their own_, she thought, running her fingers through her wet curls.

She picked up a bottle of shampoo, pouring a small amount into her hand, and proceeded to massage her head. While rinsing out her hair, Christine couldn't help but think back to the café. Meg said it would be best if both pretended it never happened while they cool their nerves. But Christine wasn't able to. It wasn't easy for her to ignore, unlike Meg. Trying to forget her visions was an act she tried when she was younger, but it didn't help. And neither was this.

She had felt that wind before, she was sure of it. Squinting hard as the water fell on her face, Christine remembered the suspicious cool air back at the Garnier. Before she had convinced herself it had to have been the AC going haywire. Though, at the moment, she was rethinking that notion. _But how is that possible? How can the same wind be felt outside and in the theatre? There's no logical explanation, unless…_

As much as she hated to say it, what if there was some paranormal activity-taking place in the Garnier? Could that have unleashed her visions again? If so, why target her? And did that force been responsible for Cat's death?

_If I wasn't ready for the asylum before, then now I am_, she thought wryly. When that wind went through her, she felt its power, sadness, fury, and… jealousy. Could wind be jealous? No. Animals and humans, yes, and…

"Ghosts," she murmured, suppressing a shiver. And once more back to ghost meaning the Phantom. Everything points back to this unknown specter that it was beginning to frighten her. Could Stacey… everyone be right that the Phantom favors her? Why? It didn't make any sense to her at all. Ghosts don't exist, plain and simple, yet this one was hell-bent on making her the lead. "I'm losing my mind," she said. "Ghosts, Phantoms are not real. Not **real**."

Through with her hair, Christine reached for her loofah and body wash. When the sponge was full of the peaches scent, she lathered it over herself, humming.

And then there had been that dream. Erik. Who was this Erik? He obviously had some importance to her past life, which she could figure, remembering the helpless plea. Rape. She had been raped, but by whom? Not Erik. No, Erik would never hurt her. He would rather kill himself than lay a hand on her that she was positive. And how did she know? She didn't, she just did. A feeling. A comforting feeling, knowing she was safe whenever Erik would be near.

The mere thought of this enigmatic name brought a flood of warmth and relief. Erik. It was a nice, strong name. Probably suited the body of this man. Strong and powerful, gentle and kind. An angel…

Shaking her head, Christine started to rub down her arm when a dark shadow moving caught the corner of her eye. Freezing, she dropped the blue puff. The shadow flicked to the left and right, her pupils following the movement. Tentatively, she took hold of the end of the shower curtain, her heart thumping loudly in her ears.

Licking her lips, Christine pulled it back violently… and found nothing. The heat from the water filled the bathroom, steam clouding the glass medicine cabinets over the sink. It was empty save for her and her clothes. Water started to drip onto the floor from where she had her head hanging out and came back, returning the curtain to its proper place. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing, she firmly told herself. All these thoughts and talks of spooks were taking its toll on her weary mind. _After _Faust _I'm going to take a nice, long vacation. A road trip sounds good and I'm sure Heather would be more than happy to come with. Maybe Meg too…_

Picking up the loofah, Christine finished cleaning herself and then rinsed it out. Hanging the loofah back on the faucet, Christine stayed inside longer; the heat was too nice to leave so soon.

Facing forward and up, the droplets splashed on her as a chill flew down her spine. Ignoring it, she closed her eyes and began to hum another song.

The chill returned, but this time it was pressing on her shoulders and slowly down her backside. Trembling, Christine twisted her back. There was nothing. Frowning, she turned around so the water could warm up her cold back. Once more she returned to her thoughts.

_After this I'll call Heather to tell her about the date and gloat about it. Um, practice lines, pick out an outfit for tomorrow, and…_

The thought didn't finish as a rush of icy chills came back, but this time she felt it caressing her cheeks, down her throat, and in between the valley of her breasts. Her body jumped forward, driving into the invisible hands.

The contrast of the water and the contact on her flesh made Christine shiver. The feeling sensually crawled down her stomach to soothingly rub her hips.

"Oh God," she whispered, her hand went out to hold onto the wall for support.

The imaginary digits softly, yet deftly trailed further to the inside of her thighs, a gentle breeze kissing the skin…

Christine whimpered, squeezing her lids tight as the burning flame flared through her trembling form. And to her dismay, the sensations ascended, re-trailing its seductive path until she felt the cool touches on her face. Lips parted, Christine took a shaky breath as the touch drifted in a feather-light caress across her mouth and jaw.

It was too much. She needed _him _now!

Christine reached out and felt… nothing.

Startled, her eyes shot open and to her horror she was alone in the shower. She could have sworn another was in here! A hot rush of guilt flooded her flushed cheeks and Christine quickly went to turn off the water. But she couldn't get rid of the haunting touches. Even as she stood, naked and cold, she longed for that feeling. _Dear Lord what the Hell is wrong with you? It was probably the air and you're making it out as some lover._

She grabbed her towel and proceeded to dry herself off until the skin felt raw. _That's for those sinful thoughts,_ she thought.

Tying the towel around her waist, Christine pulled back the shower curtain. Glancing up, her terror-stricken brown orbs widened. No…

On the steamed up medicine cabinets was that scrawled spidery script:

_"FatE LiNkS THEe tO mE FoRevEr aNd a DaY"_

Christine screamed, scrambling to get out of the tub, hitting her toe. Losing her balance, she fell as the lights began to flicker on and off, the floor quaking underneath.

She screamed again as she struggled to get up and ran to the door. Grabbing the handle, she pulled but the door didn't budge. Panicking, she tugged fiercely on the doorknob, but the door remained locked.

"MEG!" she shouted. "Let me out! Let me out damn you!"

The door rattled yet it wouldn't move. Tears springing to her eyes, Christine looked over her shoulder to see another message beginning to form. "LET ME OUT!"

Finally the door gave and Christine collided into Meg.

Stunned, the blonde gaped at her ghastly white friend. "Christine what's wrong?"

"Why didn't you get me out?" Christine cried, fear overpowering her senses. "Why didn't you help? WHY? I screamed and you… you…"

"What are you talking about?" Meg interrupted.

"You didn't HEAR me?" Christine practically yelled. "YOU DIDN'T HEAR ME?" And burst into hysteric tears.

Meg crawled over to her and firmly grasped her shoulders. "What happened?" she gritted between her teeth.

"H-He's here," was Christine's choked response.

Frowning, Meg stood up and walked into the bathroom. Scanning the small room, she found nothing but as her eyes settled on the cabinets, the color drained from her face.

_"I lOvE YoU"_

xxXXxx

Christine was deeply shaken by the ordeal that it took Meg forty-five minutes to calm her down. When she did, the singer ended up back in a fit of tears. Meg waited for her to get it out of her system until she was ready to talk. Eventually, the brunette took a few deep breaths and recounted the strange occurrences in the shower.

She told her about the shadow, about the chills that were running down her body, and then finally leading up to the message left on the steamed glass.

"And worst of all Meg is that I was enjoying the feeling!" Christine cried shamefully. "I never wanted it to end, but I knew it was wrong. I knew this wasn't right and I couldn't break it. I can't get that touch out of my head! Even now, I can feel the gentle caresses and I want it to go away!"

Meg nodded sympathetically, squeezing her hand. "But it's over now, Christine. You're okay."

"Yeah until next time!" she declared, as more tears flooded down her cheeks. "Meg… something is terribly wrong. I know he's going to come back! He won't ever stop!"

"Christine, listen to yourself!" the blonde reprimanded gently. "Look. We don't know exactly who is doing this. We only think it could be the Phantom."

"It **is **the Phantom!" Christine shrieked. "How else can this be explained? He wants me! He wants me Meg and I don't know why!"

Meg held her tongue about the other message. It would only upset Christine further and right now having her become hysterical won't solve anything.

"Wait…" Christine looked up at Meg with her tearing eyes in realization. "I have to see that portrait."

"What?" Meg stared at her like she grew a second head.

"The portrait in the dressing room! That's the answer!" She was becoming excited. The portrait would confirm whether or not she was in fact… it was a long shot but she needed to try and with Meg's help of course. "Meg, do you think we can get to the theatre before it closes?"

"Why?" The dancer asked.

"Before you woke me up I either was or going to look at this portrait that was in Christine Daae's dressing room. Don't you see? That could be the clue I need!"

"What clue? Christine what on Earth are you talking about?" Meg was getting concerned now as her friend jumped up.

She ran over to the bathroom and pointed to the closed door, "This", and then to her head. "And these."

When Meg didn't answer, Christine went over to her falling to her knees to plead with her. "Meg, I can't do this if you don't help me. I know this doesn't make much sense right now, but trust me. Once we see that painting it will. Now, are you with me?"

Meg took one glance at her and sighed. "Fine. But after this we're coming back here and forgetting that any of this has happened."

"Thank you!" She cried and hugged her.

"And don't forget about your date."

xxXXxx

The girls rushed over to the Garnier and luckily it hadn't closed. Carefully, they snuck down the halls to the dressing room. Meg brought a flashlight with her and held the beam up to show the plaque.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, full of uncertainty.

Christine took a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The brunette opened the door and stepped inside.

"Damn, it's s-s-s-o c-c-cold! We should have brought jackets," Meg commented after entering. "Huh Christine?"

But she wasn't paying attention. Christine moved over to the vanity where she had found the portrait and let out a sigh of relief. It was there. "Meg! Shine the light over here!"

"Did you find it?" Meg came running over, the light revealing the tarp. "Oh my God…"

Christine took hold of it, struggling as she dragged it out, Meg guiding her with the flashlight. Panting, she managed to lift it a few inches above the floor and shuffle over to the settee.

"Ah," she groaned, dropping it. Hurriedly, she ripped off the tarp, piling it at her feet. The light beam shook as it shined on the painting, Meg gasping.

Christine blinked once and then twice. _This can't be_, she thought desperately. _This has to be some kind of sick joke_. But as long as she stared at the face, her terrors and suspicions were confirmed.

Sitting on a bench, was that same petite woman in a pale pink flowing gown from before. Golden curls were mounted on top of her head, a few strands framing the heart-shaped countenance. Her eyes were crystal blue and childlike, lips a healthy rosy pink curved in a secretive smile that was both alluring and innocent. She possessed a natural beauty, a paleness in her skin tone, but beautiful nonetheless.

Yet Christine recognized her. She knew her. It was she.

If her hair was that shade and was born with blue eyes, then one might think that was a deceased relative she inherited from. But she had no family, no history, or connection with anyone from France. And how in the world was there a picture of a woman exactly like her?

_Reincarnation._

_The dreams… the visions…_

_It was part of a past life._

_Christine Daae's life._

_The Phantom's student and his obsession…_

_His… I'm his…_

"Christine?" Meg's voice echoed in the back of her mind. All she could do was stare. Stare at who she really was, whom she had meant too. The Phantom… He wants her… he was denied before and now… now…

"Christine!"

Meg shook her friend, bringing her back. "Christine. Did… did you see it? That's…"

"Yes it is Meg," Christine replied, her tone serious as the grave. "It's me."

"But how? Is that even possible?" the blonde hissed, her pupils wide. "No. This can't be. This isn't real."

"Isn't it Meg?" the singer asked. She looked at her friend, sighing. "It all makes perfect sense now. My fluency of the language, my voice, my love of the opera, Hell even coming here! And who brought me? Her great-great grandson."

"Okay this is eerie." Meg shook her tresses. "There has to be a reasonably logical explanation."

"No Meg. I **am **Christine Daae. Doesn't matter that we don't look the same, but the resemblance is there. We are the same."

Meg frightfully gazed at the brunette. The composed appearance and resigning tone wasn't right. She was almost like she was giving up…

The slap surprised both girls. Christine, breathing raggedly, gaped at Meg whose shaking hand was still held high.

"Stop it," Meg whispered. "Stop it Christine. Don't you dare, even for a moment, think that you belong to this… _thing._ It's not even human!"

"Meg—"

"No!" She cried, grabbing Christine's shoulders. "Listen to me. And listen to me carefully," Meg spoke, her eyes boring into the soprano's. "You do not… **do not **owe him anything! You control your life! You decide what to do and whom you will be with. It's terrible that _she_ didn't stay with him, but he cannot force you. You have to keep fighting him, Christine. You've been doing this for years. This isn't anything different. Just don't give up."

"Yes, I know, but Meg," Christine protested, "He's so powerful. Here… he can do anything since I'm within his domain. Back in the States, I could resist easily, but it's too hard. I can't do it!"

Meg hit her again. "Listen to the way you're speaking! This is not the Christine Dawson I know."

"I'm sorry but I can't ignore what's in front of me!" she shouted, her hazel eyes glaring.

"And what of me? And Raoul?" Meg spat. "Do you even care about him? God, Christine, the man practically fawns over you! No," she interrupted as Christine opened her mouth. "The Phantom is a _ghost_. You are flesh and blood. Breathing and very much alive. He cannot do anything to you understand? His life is over and yours is only beginning. If you give in, so help me God—"

"What are you lasses doing?" barked a gruff voice.

Christine jumped, as did Meg and dropped her flashlight. Spinning around, they saw the bulking figure of Joseph Brolin in the doorway. He looked down on them with suspicion creasing his brow. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"We… I lost my wallet," Christine lied, looking at Meg. Brolin shifted his attention to Meg for a confirmation.

"Yeah she did. Why is that against the law or something?" the dancer retorted.

"No. But I don't recall seeing any wallets," Brolin sneered, a smirk ghosting on his lips. "What you are _really_ doing in here and especially this room? Don't you know who lurks around?"

"A doped up stagehand?" Meg muttered under her breath.

He glared at her. "Watch your tongue, missy, or I might stop behaving like a gentleman."

"You don't scare us," Meg said defiantly. "Come on, Christine. Let's go."

The brunette nodded, and left without another word.

Brolin watched them leave and grunted. "Crazy bitches."

Looking down on the floor and saw the forgotten flashlight. He bent down to pick it up and flashed it over what must have been the crux of the girls' argument.

Despite his high state, Brolin recognized the face as the dark-haired girl. He staggered back in shock, a cool draft surrounding him. "Son of a b—"

_"Shh! It's not proper for a gentleman to speak like that."_

The bulb in the flashlight died.

xxXXxx

The drive back was silent as both girls contemplated over the discovery. Meg felt awful for slapping Christine, but she had to do it. If the Phantom was there and heard her becoming susceptible to his intentions… she shuddered. She vowed that this wouldn't ever come to this again. Christine needs someone to keep her leveled and Meg was the gal to do the job. _I bet if Heather was here she would have done the same_, she mused. _So at least I won't feel any guilt for smacking her. But this is far from over. _

Pulling in front of the apartment building, Meg looked up to their window and trembled. He knew where they lived… If he were desperate to have Christine surely he wouldn't hesitate kidnapping her from her own home? _That's crazy. A ghost can't kidnap a living person_, Meg thought. Yet, he would find a way. She didn't know how she knew, but Meg just did like Christine. When there's a will there's a way and nothing could stop the Phantom. Isn't that her mother was always tried to stress over the years through her ghastly stories?

Glancing briefly at Christine, her sympathies went out to her. How unfair is it to know that you're fate was decided by some other person, and not any person, but a ghost who once was in love with your former self.

But she has Raoul, her mind screamed. She's in control of whom she wants and if she chooses this Phantom I'll slap her silly!

The dancer was about to say something, anything to disrupt the constant growing silence, but Christine's exhausted glaze was enough for her to close her mouth. And she felt the tiredness swept through her body. _Tomorrow_, Meg promised to herself. _Tomorrow I'll say my peace and we'll go from there. This can't go on forever in the dark. She must know that. Tomorrow will be a fresh slate._

With that resolve in mind, Meg wished Christine a "good-night" as they separated into their respectful rooms. Inside and under the covers, Meg Garrison hoped for Christine to sleep in peace without any disturbances.

All was quiet throughout the city, except for one poor individual in the hands of a demon.

TBC…

Don't forget to review:)


	13. Chp 12: Visions of a Past Lover

A/N: How was that for some EC action? And for RC fans… the first date! Now, don't be too excited… you think that everything will be suns and roses for them? Hee hee. Don't forget to review please! And special thanks to my new beta, Halley. Thanks girl!

**Chapter 12—Visions of a Past Lover**

_Walking through the halls, she twisted her golden ring absently. So much has happened that her mind has been in a whirlwind. Her Voice, her Angel, was indeed a man. A poor man who loved her with such passion that she wasn't sure to make of it. And then there was…_

"_Christine!"_

_She turned to see Raoul coming breathlessly towards her. She knew she should get rid of him quickly, but he was her childhood friend. A part of her loved him and wanted to know him better. So she asked him if he wanted to go for a walk._

_Being careful of the trap doors and shadows, she showed him her world at the opera house. He listened to her idle stories, though the look on his face she knew he wanted to talk about something other than the mischief her and Meg would get into. _

_So he told her about the expedition to the North and she found herself overwhelmed with grief. This could be the last time they would see each other after so many years, but in his eyes she knew he wanted her to say the words to stop this from coming to past. As much as part of her wanted to, she couldn't. Not when she had **Erik** to think about. Poor **Erik**. _

_It had been obvious for sometime that sweet Raoul wanted to marry her, but since she could not let that happen, she came up with an idea that would be fine for everyone. _

"_Why not be engaged? For the whole month? That way we will have fond memories for the rest of our lives and—" she paused, knowing her next words must be chosen wisely. **He **could hear her right now if he should wish. "It's a happiness that will **harm **no one."_

_She would not dare hurt his feelings. Not after what he had done for her despite his sins. This would be a harmless game and **Erik **would understand her motives. Raoul may never be her lover, but he was her friend and she could at least, for his sake, pretend there was something between them._

xxXXxx

Oddly enough, Christine woke with a renewal sense of tranquility. She couldn't recall a time where she felt so refresh from a night's sleep. By the time her and Meg returned, she fell instantly asleep on her pillow. If there were any dreams she had, she couldn't remember them. And she appreciated it.

Brushing her hair, Christine noticed the time and gasped. It was quarter to eight. Raoul would be over in at least fifteen minutes!

A soft knock came at her door and Meg walked in, her eyes on the floor. "Hi Christine," she spoke quietly, that Christine almost didn't hear her.

"Hi Meg," Christine said, her brown eyes full of trepidation. "About yesterday…"

Meg snapped her head up, her own eyes swimming with tears. "I am so sorry Christine!"

"No!" she interrupted. "Don't be. Lord knows I had it coming for some time. I don't know what I had gotten into me that I would give up like that, but I'm glad you were there with me. Honestly, don't feel bad. I might need another hit along the road."

Meg laughed, feeling a bit better. "You really scared the Hell out of me, Dawson."

"Me too." Christine smiled and hugged Meg. Looking over her shoulder, Meg's eyes widened. "Omigod!" she exclaimed. "Your date! Are you still planning on going?"

Christine nodded determinedly. "It's the normality I need, plus I've waited for so long for this moment! You think I'm going to step down?"

Meg chuckled, shaking her head. "Go get him Christine."

"Scoot so I can get ready!"

Meg continued laughing, the uneasiness fleeing from the pleasant release of joking with a friend. Christine needed to get out to clear her mind and so did she. Vaguely wondering if Stacey and Jamie wanted to grab a movie, Meg found herself stopping outside the bathroom. The message left before hadn't left her mind or thoughts as she stared inside.

_You better not be here_, Meg thought with pure hatred. _She doesn't deserve you, you good for nothing poltergeist. Do her a favor and walk into the light so she'll never have to fear you ever again._

The door angrily slammed closed, knocking Meg to the ground.

xxXXxx

Five after eight, Raoul was leaning outside his car waiting for Christine. He had rung their room and Meg told him she would be out there in a minute. Adele's daughter sounded a bit winded and he hoped she wasn't falling ill or anything. Now with it being close to opening night, getting sick wasn't the best thing to happen to anyone. They were lucky that Jamie would be back in time for the show.

His stomach fluttered as the seconds passed. It had been so long since he been on a date that Raoul was worried he forgot the basics. Had it been some other girl his brother or a friend would have set him up he wouldn't have cared, but this was Christine. And she was not like some other girl you would meet at a bar or on the street. She was special. And who knew what could happen today?

He heard the door open and looked up, his jaw slightly dropping as Christine came walking out. She was… stunning, absolutely gorgeous. Raoul's breath fled his lungs as he gaped at the approaching beauty.

Her brown ringlets weren't up like they usually were, and instead they cascaded down, framing her petite face. It was then he realized how fair her ivory complexion was with just a dab of make-up to bring out the hazel in her eyes and the ruby red of her lips. She was simplicity dressed in a dusty pink peasant top and a dark brown skirt down to her knees. Always the modest one a fact that Raoul greatly admired about her.

Christine blushed, only fueling her loveliness, he noted. _Angelic_, he thought. _She looks like an angel._

She cleared her throat, getting his attention. Raoul chuckled nervously, averting his gaze to her feet. _Damn. She has cute toes_.

Snapping his head up, Raoul grinned, fighting the urge to kiss her full lips right away. Angel… yes. Edible, to say the least, a painfully yes.

Taking a deep breath, Raoul stepped forward opening the car door for her. "Shall we go?"

Christine beamed at him. "Yes."

xxXXxx

The first couple hours flew by so quickly to Christine's surprise, but it was expected from the fun they were having.

Raoul told her everything he knew about the different sites he took her to—Notre Dame, the Panthéon, and the Eiffel Tower. His pride for his city couldn't be concealed as he explained the history to her in a variety of tones. Christine listened in awe and only interrupted to ask a question or make a comment to something he said.

Raoul was enjoying himself immensely. Never had he met a woman who was enthused with the historical references. Mostly the girls he had gone out with would yawn or ignore him completely unless he asks them a question about themselves. Christine wasn't like that. She was an avid learner and paid attention to everything he had to say. It made him feel appreciated. But that didn't mean he didn't give her time to talk freely.

Christine told him more about herself. She told him about her parents and what it was like to move around with her father after her mother's death.

"It was hard the first few months," she admitted. "My father was like a ghost. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't. I never saw him so hopeless before."

Raoul was amazed by what she was revealing to him and kept it locked safely. It was obvious she didn't tell many people about her parents and for her to have such complete confidence in him made his heart swell.

As they walked down the Champs-Elysées, Raoul never felt so at ease before. Being with Christine was quite a comfortable experience that he could be himself. It didn't take much to impress her and she was easy to please, which Raoul found he liked very much. Cat had been too high-strung and didn't appreciate the simple things he would do for her. Doing something relaxing such as walking wasn't her cup of tea and she would rather hop in a limo or taxi rather be out in the fresh air. And if he wanted to point out some interesting fact he read, Cat would snore and say something like, "Who cares about the past? They're long dead."

His brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Cat would have never agreed to do something like this. Strolling down Paris and exploring the monuments, she would have laughed in his face. "We're not some dumb tourists," she would probably say. And bad enough (he would admit), Raoul would let it drop and make plans to do it himself, which never would occur. True he had seen these places millions of times, but who said a citizen couldn't visit them? No one would care if he lived here or not.

_I really did let Cat run my life_, he thought in awe. _And I didn't bother to prevent it. _

Looking down at Christine, he mentally kicked himself. _Here I am on a date with one of the sweetest people in the world and I'm thinking of my ex. Adele was right. I have been in love with the ideal of Cat. And now, I have the perfect woman by my side. What more could I ask for? She must be an angel sent to save me from my solitude. _

Smiling gently, Raoul closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The scent of wild jasmines flooded his senses, placing him under a pleasant spell. _I could get use to that…_he thought dreamily. Opening his eye, Raoul glanced at her hand and wondered if he would be too forward if he should to…

His fingers reached out to take hold of her hand. Christine looked at him and smiled sweetly, silently okaying his action.

His male pride now soaring to incredible heights, Raoul relished the hold of her small hand in his large palm. Her skin was so soft, not rough. _Oh yeah. Definitely could get use to this._

Christine, however, was enjoying Raoul's attention and the friendly silence between them. He was one of the very few guys she knew who wouldn't fill up the gaps with meaningless conversations. And when he took her hand, she couldn't hold back the silly grin she knew she had on her face. Everything she had hoped for was coming true in this single moment. Until…

_"Christine…" he grunted as he collapsed on top of her, spent, his body sweaty and hot. His face was buried in the crook of her neck and she did all she could to not let the tears fall._

No more! Please God, let this be the last, _she silently prayed to her God, but tonight her wish didn't come true._

_He lifted his head to stare into her tearful eyes, a tortured hiss escaping from his lips._

_"Christine… please no tears. Let me love you like the Angel you are to me," he moaned, his body hardening once more. His kind blue eyes glowed with desire and love that she wanted to scream out all sorts of curses at him._

_"No! Raoul don't!"_

Christine stopped abruptly, her hazel irises glazed over in a hazy gaze. But once she could feel him slamming into her, she cried out in alarm, her body stiffening in reflex and fear.

"Christine?" Raoul said, turning to see what made her stop so suddenly. Her face was contorted in pain that his heart skipped a beat. "Christine!"

He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a good shake. "Christine!" he yelled in her face.

Immediately, she snapped out whatever she was in. Staring confusingly at Raoul for a moment it all sank in and she jumped back. "Don't," she choked out.

"Don't what?" he demanded, frowning. "Are you alright? You're not in pain, are you?"

"W-what?" Christine squeaked.

"You looked like someone was killing you," he pointed out, his brow creased in worry. "Do you need to sit down or something?"

"No… I…" Christine looked around, relieved that there were tons of people around. A few interested onlookers stopped to watch the young couple. "Nothing."

"Sure didn't look like nothing," Raoul commented, giving her a suspicious look. "Christine you're shaking! Please tell me what I can do!"

_You raped me, you bastard!_ Her mind angrily accused. _How do you think I feel?_ And then, it hit her.

Raoul couldn't have raped her. They were in the middle of plain sight for God's sake! Wait…

A vision…

Raoul… not this Raoul… but another.

_I'm Christine Daae and Vicomte Raoul de Chagny raped me_, she thought in stunning horror. _Oh my God! It was him all along! My first vision… that wasn't a dream about Raoul but a recount of his great-great grandfather!_

"Christine, talk to me," Raoul pleaded, feeling helpless as his date struggled with whatever internal turmoil that was taking place. Something was out of place and he was terrified. Extremely terrified.

_Keep your cool. Last thing you should do is freak him out or worse have him think you're a lunatic_, Christine told herself. Though by judging the look on his face, it was too late.

"I'm okay. Really." Christine forced a smile to show she meant it, though inside she was cringing at the revelation. Why now? Why during what should be the happiest time of her life?

_He's displeased and he's trying to stop this_, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. _Raoul's bad. He'll hurt you if you don't put an end to this soon. You know it. He hurt you before and he would do it again. People don't change._

"C'mon, Raoul. It was a small headache. Must be my sinuses or something." And with that she chuckled like it was no big deal.

_End this now!_ The voice screamed. _End it!_

Ignoring the voice, Christine grabbed Raoul's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm fine. Honestly."

Raoul didn't look convinced, but didn't argue. "All right. I have a surprise for you. I know you're going to like it. I know I will."

She tried not to let her smile drop, but panic began to jump in her stomach.

_I TOLD YOU!_ It screamed. _He's going to rape you! He's going to break you! Don't let him! DON'T LET HIM!_

Yet, Christine didn't obey the voice.

xxXXxx

"I had to pull a few strings since it was short notice, but being a de Chagny, I'll admit, has it perks," Raoul explained, grinning gently as he led Christine inside one of his favorite places in all of Paris—the Louvre. As a child, he and Philip would spend hours admiring the different pieces of art and sculptures. And for a short time, Raoul wanted to be sculptor when he grew up, just like Michelangelo.

He eagerly led Christine through the halls, now and then stopping to view a painting. He couldn't wait to show her what he planned, which took a lot of convincing for the curator to allow it. That plus he promised a nice box for one of the showings of _Faust_, seeing how quickly opening night was filled. Raoul wanted to make this a day memorable for Christine, something she could tell her friends back home. _Or the children_, he thought subconsciously.

Christine, still shaken from the vision, hid it well by her unabashed exclaims and looks at the cherished arts. She told herself firmly, that no matter what happens, she wasn't going to turn this date into a disaster. No matter how much **he **wanted it to end, Christine wasn't going to allow it. This was _her_ life and she could be with whomever she wants; phantom be damned.

_He's here, _whispered the raspy voice. _And he's angry._

_Shut up! _Christine shouted. _Shut up! _

_He's unhappy. You shouldn't have disappointed him. You know better than that. You know better than to mess with his wrath._

_He doesn't exist! _She cried. _He's not real. _

_He does and he is, _the chilling voice replied. _He's here, right now, inside your mind…_

_NO!_

"Christine?"

The brunette looked up to see Raoul standing near another entrance to a different part of the museum.

"We're almost there."

She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment to respond. Quietly and in a reverence manner, she followed him out, daring not to look behind her. If she did, **_he _**would catch her. _He _was always there. Always watching, always with that piercing gaze. There was never an escape. Never from **Erik**.

xxXXxx

Raoul held her hand, his smile growing each passing second as they drew near to their destination. Glancing behind his shoulder, Christine's eyes were closed just like he asked. He thought this would be fun for him guiding her to the surprise, the suspense building within her stomach without the gift of sight. But strangely, Christine was adamant to do so, until finally she acquiesced on her own.

Never had he seen her act skittishly. Could it be she didn't like him that much? He never gave her a reason to fear him… but he was a man. And men don't usually understand women's behavior patterns.

"You can open your eyes," he breathed, his excitement bursting like firecrackers on Bastille Day. He held his breath, as Christine slowly opened her eyes, waiting for her response.

His request wasn't a normal one, but Raoul was glad that the curator went through with it.

In the center of Michelangelo's masterpieces was a picnic lunch set up for them. Christine walked over to it, her face practically glowing. "Oh Raoul, you shouldn't…"

"I never done this before," he blurted, keeping a straight face as she turned to him. "Not with Cat. Or any girl I dated. I know that you, Christine, would appreciate this more. T-this is my favorite wing and I wanted to share it with you."

Christine's lips curved upwards in a delighted smile. "I love it."

He relaxed. _She didn't think this was stupid_. "Hungry?"

"Famish!" she exclaimed and laughed.

For the next few hours, they ate and talked about anything and everything. Christine wouldn't lie to herself to say she was a bit alarm when Raoul told her they had the museum to themselves. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; she did, well, until that vision. Now, she felt silly when all he wanted was to have lunch with no interruptions. He wasn't going to hurt her.

Though, as she nibbled on her cold chicken sandwich, her thoughts drifted over to the Vicomte, err Comte. Raoul looked so much like him except for the style of hair. But the boyish looks were there, those warm blue eyes, and charming smile. Then she wondered if he _knew _that she resembled his great-great grandmother. If he did, then he hadn't said a word about the unlikely canniness. Then another idea came to Christine. What happened _really _between Daae, the Comte, and the Phantom? It didn't take a genius to put two and two together to come up with Daae's spite for the Comte. He forced her into an unwanted union and raped her, while seeing it as completely legal. Did Raoul truly know how much of a monster his ancestor was?

_He must have_, she reasoned. _Or why else would he publicize his denouncement of his family? _She was preoccupied thinking too much about the matter that she failed to hear Raoul's question.

"I said, 'Do you like the Garnier'?" Raoul repeated, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Oh, yes. Yes I do," Christine answered. "I'm still kind of in awe that you would hire me."

"And why not? You have talent, Christine. Don't forget that," he said, stating the obvious. But still hearing it coming from him made her blush. "Thank you."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but how come you weren't working at the Met?" This was something that had been bothering Raoul. A voice like Christine's wouldn't go unnoticed by any corporation. They would be fools not to hire her on the spot.

"I would have liked to but…" and her voice trailed off. She had a feeling that Raoul would ask her. Who wouldn't knowing her history to the theatre? Even Heather was confused that Christine wouldn't try to work where her parents did. She bit her lower lip, trying to decide whether or not she should tell him. _He would think it was stupid_, she thought.

"You can tell me," he spoke sincerely.

Gazing into his eyes, Christine was done for. How could anyone not concede to this wonderful man? Licking her lips tentatively, Christine replied:

"I couldn't. A part of me wouldn't even go back, not even to see a show or anything. I loved growing up there, but it was also where my parents met and where my mother died. I never could bring myself to go back to the place where I once called home. They did call me… several times with a job position but I always turned them down."

Raoul reached out to squeeze her hand for comfort. A soft breeze blew in, almost sighing for her loss. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have brought this up—"

"No. It's alright, really." She lifted her head up; her hazel eyes filled with unshed tears. "I probably shouldn't keep it inside. It usually ends up biting me back." And she chuckled, knowing how true that was.

Raoul nodded, giving her another squeeze. "I know that feeling. Thank you for confiding in me."

"Raoul?"

"Yes Christine?" His face hovered near hers. He was so close that he could almost taste her full lips.

"Is it true that you condemn your great-great grandfather?"

_Damn_. Raoul leaned back and sighed. "It is. Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Curious, I suppose."

He cocked his head. "Well, I guess I could divulge you. It's nothing, well; most people wouldn't care for my excuses since it was in the past. And face it, we can't change it no matter how much we would like to."

Christine nodded for him to continue. "You know the scandal surrounding my great-great grandmother and the so-called specter of a Phantom? Turns out, as you know, the Phantom was a living person who was obsessed, no, in love… um both with her. And she was in love with him—"

"Wait. Did you say she was in love with the Phantom?" Christine repeated in astonishment.

Raoul nodded once. "Yeah. Strange? But it didn't matter that he stalked her, killed for her, or was a bit estrange when it came to courting properly. The fact was Christine Daae was in love with the Phantom of the Opera and not my great-great grandfather that everyone wants so desperately to believe."

"Oh." Christine rubbed the back of her neck. _In love? She was in love with him? And he loved her… _It made somewhat sense. Then it hit her. The name…

"Erik," she whispered.

"What?" Raoul asked. She shook her curls. "Um, nothing. Go on."

"Oh, well, that obviously didn't sit too well for my great-great grandfather, as you could imagine. So when Christine went to him to basically tell him it was the quits, the prestigious Vicomte went nuts and locked her in a bedroom. He had it in his head that the Phantom was still controlling her, even though she told him that she always loved the Phantom. _Always_ and my grandfather was an innocent. So, my great-great grandfather forced her to marry him and the rest is history," he finished, taking a sip of white wine.

"Oh my…" Christine's eyes widened. "How did you find out?"

"My great-great grandmother's diary," Raoul answered. "She really loved that guy, the Phantom. And while she was in my great-great grandfather's house, she would write with such optimism that he would save her from this. He apparently had a way of doing things, like a ghost, that no other normal person could do. She referred to him as Angel throughout the book. I wished… I wished she didn't lived the way she did. The Comte was unstable since the 'incident' when she was kidnapped during an opera and he almost died in the Phantom's labyrinth for trying to rescue her. Tragic, I know, how three lives were destroyed on a single night."

"But what of the Phantom? Do you know what ever happened to him?"

"I'm afraid I don't. Well, now, currently he's still residing in my theatre, but in life? Not a clue. I tried finding some answers but there's no record of what happened afterwards. A body was found in the cellars, skeleton actually, and many took for granted that was the feared Opera Ghost. But from reading about him through my great-great grandmother it didn't seem like him to go like that. He was a genius, pure and simple, both artistically and musically. He knew things that no other person knew in the time period; he was a traveler, a storyteller, and a magician. Mind you, this is from what Christine wrote. If he were to die, he would have gone with one last performance before the grand exit, you know? But nothing! There was nothing."

"But he must have died at the Garnier, otherwise his spirit wouldn't be there," Christine pointed out.

"If you believed that. But those who know are dead and it's not like we can contact them." Raoul chuckled at his little joke, not noticing the paleness that crept onto Christine's cheeks. "So that's the story. After reading what happened, I despised my ancestor from here on out. He wasn't the man that I thought he was and since my family couldn't get that, I turned my back and said, 'Screw you'."

_It all makes perfect sense, _Christine thought. _Christine Daae loved the Phantom and he probably died, thinking that she didn't love him after all. That's horrible! I understand now. Maybe I could tell him that she loved him! Most ghosts have unfinished business before they could be in peace and this might be it. If I told the Phantom she **did **love him, he might leave me alone! _

It was wishful thinking, but it seemed liable to her. Why else would the tormented ghost be chasing after her? He was trying to send her message, perhaps throughout her childhood. Or Christine Daae. Whoever it was, Christine realized, the Phantom only wanted to be loved and with this knowledge, he could be laid to rest for good. She at last found the bit she needed to get rid of him. And she had Raoul de Chagny to thank for.

_He doesn't know how much this means to me, but maybe one day I'll tell_, Christine thought and then mentally shook her head. _No. Once this is all over, I'm going on a looong vacation and clearing this out of my head forever._

"I think that's enough of depressing topics in our lives. There's other galleries here I would like to show you."

xxXXxx

_The sun out in the distance rolled in, the new rays indicating a brand new day trickled over the lands and the many rooms, all except one. How fitting and ironic it was for the woman once called Angel to be stuck in a tomb of darkness. Four months passed and she was in the grip of a rude awakening._

_Her normal colorful, pleasant disposition shriveled up into a pale, sluggish countenance. The lively blue eyes were now dead and miserable. Hope had fled her the moment she discovered her secret. **He **will never come for her now. Not when she was infected with a disease so horrible and life threatening. A wave of nausea would remind her of her treacherous body and its creation that was meant for **him and him alone**. _

_The day the doctor confirmed her worst fears; she knew her life was at last sealed to her tormentor. Who would want her now? She was soiled, dirty, and impure for the rest of her days. There was no escape of what she will become from looking into a mirror. _

_Nine months…_

_And her womb stirred from the intense hatred within._

xxXXxx

It was close to ten by the time Raoul and Christine returned to the apartment. Ever the gentleman, he got out of his car to open the door for her.

Christine enjoyed being doted upon and she had loved being with Raoul like this, but her head throbbed with intense pain. He didn't bore her or drove her to be ill, but it had been the damn visions.

After leaving the Louvre, they went to Versailles where Christine was hit with an entourage of memories, all negative, of course. Raoul was concerned yet she waved him off, giving excuses out that the air conditioning was bothering her or something. No way would she ever tell him that while they walk side by side, she was imagining them having sex. And it wasn't in a good way either.

On the ride back, Christine was feeling nauseous, but only because of the latest vision she experienced.

As soon as she got into the apartment, she was locking herself in her room for some down time.

"Home sweet home," he said, walking her up to the door.

"Home sweet home," she echoed, a tiny smile on her lips. "I had a wonderful time, Raoul. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Raoul murmured, stopping her by taking both of her hands. Christine looked up in shock, though she couldn't make his expression.

"Christine…" he started, paused to lick his lips. "I… I wanted to say, that I wasn't going to this ever again. Not after Cat. It hurt too much and I didn't want to go through it again. I was afraid… no _terrified _to take that leapt for years. But I'm glad that I did with you. You're one of the kindest and most generous people I know and I felt free. I was free to be myself around you and I liked it very much. Perhaps… there's a chance we could do this again? Some time soon, maybe?"

Christine beamed and moved a little closer. "I would like that very much Raoul."

"Good." He stepped forward, his face inches from hers. "Christine…"

She tilted upwards; her lips parted as he sealed the space between them, and captured her in a heart-pounding kiss. Her small hands reached up to wrap themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished her mouth slowly, promising her of what's to come.

He gently broke apart, his breath uneven as they both stared into each other's eyes. "I, uh, see you tomorrow?" he offered weakly, his mind not functioning 100 percentat the moment.

Christine's chocolate irises gleamed. "Good-night Raoul."

"Good-night."

He waited until she was inside. He waited until she went into the elevator to her floor. And he waited until she was probably in her apartment, telling Meg what happened. And while he stood out there, waiting, Raoul was in awe over what passed between them.

Eventually, his body gained some power for him to stir away from the building, his head stuck in the clouds.

This was a big step. For both of them, he realized, as he headed to his car.

Raoul opened the car door and jerked away. _No! _

A tornado had appeared to go rampant inside the vehicle as he said his good-byes to Christine, as he gaped in anger and terror.

On the driver's seat was a message that Raoul thought he had seen for the last time—

_ShE's MiNE!_

TBC…

Please don't forget to review! And also, I've never been to the Louvre so hopefully this came out alright. Thanks!


	14. Chp 13: Opening Night of Faust

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the lyrics to _Faust_.

A/N: Thank you again for your kind words. EC fans never fear! You should be happy with this chapter as well as RC fans for a couple tender moments. Updates will be slow for the next couple weeks because of midterms and studying. Grr…. The dreaded studying. Thanks again to Halley for such a wonderful job and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 13- Opening Night of Faust**

"I'm going to fire his ass the next time I see him. I swear, no more of this shit. I can't have it anymore!" Raoul exclaimed, clenching his fist and shaking his head. "God, keeping _him _on was one the dumbest things I could have done."

Adele looked on in surprise. And mostly for his language. Usually he kept himself in check, hardly swearing, but he was…pissed to say the least.

"M. de Chagny, you know Brolin. He'll come back with some excuse to his disappearance. I know we'll be better off without him, but the theatre needs him," she tried explaining. "No else can move as quick as he can with the sets."

"True but we'll find someone else with that talent. I should have fired him when he almost killed Christine! I don't care if he claims he was nowhere near it, the fact was he was in charge and has abused that privilege more than I can count. His ass is toast, Adele, quite literally."

She frowned. Since he came in this morning, Raoul was nothing but in an irritable mood. And finding out that Brolin was gone only fueled this behavior. The steam was practically coming out of his ears!

Adele smiled softly, and tried to get into a discussion that would pacify him, if not, erase the temperamental mood. "Speaking of Christine, how was your date? You know, I was very proud of you for taking the initiative."

Raoul shrugged but his face was no longer tensed. Adele held a silent victory inside.

"The date was great, except when Christine fell ill, but she said it was her sinuses. Other than that, we had a good time, though I wished the evening had ended differently."

"Why?" Adele asked, confused by such a statement. If the date was a success, surely there wasn't a rejection?

"My car that's what." He opened up a drawer and handed a handful of pictures to the ballet mistress. "Take a look and see why I'm so pissy."

Curious, she peered down at the pictures and gasped. "M. de Chagny! What on Earth happened to your car!"

"My thoughts exactly when I dropped off Christine, but take a closer look to the driver's seat."

She did, her face paling at the recognition of the scrawl. Glancing up at Raoul, he nodded smugly. "That has to be no one else, but our good pal the Phantom. Though how it managed to rip my Porsche to Hell I don't know. The insurance company is going to get kick out of this if I tell them a ghost did it. So now, I'm sticking to a group of vigilantes. Though, I'll be damn to know why I would be attacked like this."

Adele set them down and gravely stared at him. "Monsieur, I think you should take this seriously."

"I am. It's my frickin car!"

"No sir." She shook her head. "The message. Perhaps, it might be for the best… for the both of you if you take a break."

"A break? Adele, if you think I'm going to believe some insane message, then you have me all wrong. I won't take this crap understand? And I won't be told whom I can see by some deranged phantom!" He glowered. "If I want to see Christine, again, I will. In fact, I think right now I'll go out and asked on another date. You hear me, you son of a bitch!"

"Monsieur!" Adele cried, aghast at his boldness. "If he hears…"

"Let him! I don't give a shit to what he thinks! This is the last straw, Adele. The last straw!" He stood and ran out of the office.

Adele collapsed into the nearby seat, shock and fear running through her. She had feared that this would happen… she wanted to believe he wouldn't… but looking at the pictures of the damaged vehicle, this was only the beginning.

_No_, she thought. _First was Catarina Giovanni. This… this will lead to more._

Reaching into her pocket, she produced a cell phone. Meg had insisted on her owning one in case for emergencies so she could reach her. Gazing up at the pictures, her gray eyes flickered back to the electronic device. She should have told her… but she was afraid. Oh too afraid of the consequences. If she had broken her silence, then much of this could have been prevented. But she had another chance…

At the last second, Adele replaced the phone back into her pocket. No… Not yet. She will wait for another day when she'll confess all she knew to the innocent in the matter. Until then, there will only be silence.

xxXXxx

Like Cat, the news of the Chief of Flies disappearance spread like wildfire. The only difference was that this was nothing new. Many assumed Brolin would reappear, like he usually does, from an intense trip of booze. All except Christine.

Learning about her connection to the theatre and to its resident ghost, Christine was more wary wherever she went. By no means did she want to have another rendezvous with the Phantom, a past love or not. All of her earlier warm feelings about "Erik" were gone, leaving only fear in its path. After what she could gather from Meg and Raoul, he was a dangerous man when alive and more so now when he's dead. She pitied him for the abuse he had went through, but that didn't excuse him for murder, kidnapping, or extortion in her opinion. And if he were madly lovesick for her, then like the previous Christine, he would stop at nothing for her to succeed. And that meant eliminating any contests.

Poor Cat. She was in the way and never had a chance.

Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life? She wondered. Would this ghost follow her no matter what? Christine shuddered at the possibility of a fellow costar meeting an unfortunate end if "Erik" thought Christine would be in danger of not winning a role. She couldn't have that on her conscious and no one will ever believe her of the homicidal Phantom at her side.

She wasn't aware of what he did to Raoul's car, but was caught by surprise when Raoul came flying down to the stage asking her out for dinner that night. Who was she to say no? But, she wasn't sure if Raoul wanted her company after the unusual display she had on the Champs-Elysées. Yet he seemed so desperate with those big puppy eyes, she couldn't resist.

After all, Christine liked Raoul a lot. And it didn't matter that he bore the same resemblance to the older de Chagny. She knew that this de Chagny wouldn't lay a hand on her or any other woman. And if she were to break up with him, Christine was positive he wouldn't lock her away. But that little persisted voice kept telling her to say no. So she did what she wanted and that was to have dinner with Raoul.

And no Phantom could stop her.

xxXXxx

Opening night was a couple days away and Christine couldn't have been more excited. Her debut in an opera… it was a dream come true! And then there was Raoul…

The singer and owner's relationship was striving to new heights to both of their glee. Christine never thought it would be possible to find a Hollywood romance, but sure enough she did.

Raoul was a gentleman, which was plainly seen on the day they met, but he had been the first to bring up about taking it slow. He didn't want to ruin this, and frankly, neither did she. So like a couple of teenagers with their first boyfriend and girlfriend, they spent time respectably with each other and always ending with a sweet, chaste kiss.

Christine was happy and didn't mind the steps they were taking. If ever, it was the best direction.

They told each other everything about past relationships. Raoul was a bit embarrassed by revealing some intimate facts about him and Cat, but Christine was a good listener and understood how he felt. She knew because she was in a similar position, though she didn't let it get _that _far. But she knew the woes of a broken heart and could relate to the suffering that went along. She only hoped that she could give him the sort of love he deserved.

He also felt the same about her. Raoul was upset when Christine related about her last boyfriend, a struggling journalist, who cheated on her twice. He claimed to have loved her, but even she could see through his lies. Though it happened later when she was able to think clearly after it was all over. Raoul couldn't understand how any man could do something so horrible to a woman, especially Christine. She was too dear and a wonderful being to even think of hurting. But life had it surprises and even the best of people get burn the most, which was a sad reality.

Luckily, the two found each other and were determined to take the hurt away from the other.

If only Raoul knew the extent of Christine's problems besides boy trouble…

_Dressed in a scantily clad dress and robe, Christine emerged from her bedroom in response to the glorious music reverberating around._

_The apartment transformed into a home full of exotic treasures and beautiful intricate designs on the cavernous walls and floors. The air was cold but she could not feel it. The music warmed her soul, calling to her…_

_Christine followed the strange melody until she was in a room unlike anything she'd ever seen. The walls were almost black as night, the ground covered in a carpet of crimson. Richly colored pillows were set accordingly on a settee; the scent of foreign spices filled her nostrils. But nothing in the room could compare to the greatest beauty that was set before whoever enters. _

_A majestic organ stood out, the pipes crawling towards the ceiling. And the sounds emanating from the grand instrument was full of emotions—anger, sorrow, passion, lust, and love. _

_Christine stood in awe, her body coming alive to the notes that were pulling her to its source. She had never heard anything so… vibrant._

_The keeper of such magic, sat with his back to her, shrouded all in ebony from what her eye could see. Christine did not make any noise, not wanting to disturb him or cause the song to an abrupt end. Transfixed, she stared at the musician's back, the muscles bunching and flexing at every stroke. His arms were wide and muscular leading to his long, slender fingers barely touching the keys. _

_Eyes glued to those graceful skilled digits, she felt her heart within her breast thump wildly. Without seeing his face, she felt the stirrings of desire in her belly from simply observing. The hot flood rose to her flushed cheeks at her irrational thoughts racing and her loose behavior. What was wrong with her? How dare she think of…_

_His playing ceased, the dexterous hands in mid-air. The only sounds now were her ragged breathing, now quickening in apprehension over what he might do. _

_Slowly, he turned on the bench, his jet-black hair glistening from sweat and the faint candlelight. Her hazel eyes widened and darkened as she watched a droplet fall from his forehead to his damp chest. He wore underneath the black cape a white cotton shirt that parted to show his flesh from the throat to upper torso. Thick, black curly hair covered the exposed pale skin. _

_Christine's throat ran dry as she soaked in the image he presented. Her Maestro…_

"_Christine," he purred in his liquid velvety voice, forcing her to look into his burning amber eyes._

_Covering most of his face was the black porcelain; he used to conceal his secrets from the world and her. His lips were firm in a scolding manner, yet his eyes betrayed the lust that was transpiring between them. _

_Unconsciously, she licked her lips, an act that didn't go unnoticed by his penetrating gaze. Pushing up, he stood in full height, the cape pooling at his feet. It was then she realized, how taut he was, which only fueled to arouse her further. _

_Her flimsy outfit wasn't helping much in her state or his as he took a step forward, his hand held out for her, the two fiery orbs gleaming behind the false façade. "Christine," he whispered again, that voice and eyes beckoning her to come. _

_An unseen force caused her to move, to go closer to the deity of music. Tentatively, her petite hand fit into his palm, and the realizations of her succumbing to him stoke the flames that were rising in those dark eyes. "Mine," he growled, pulling her fully to his form._

_His other hand wrapped around her waist, holding her place in case she tried to escape. But that was the last thing on Christine's mind._

"_Mine," he repeated, his grip growing tighter to show the young woman who was in charge. "No one can have you, Christine. **No one**."_

"_Yes," she heard herself reply. "I belong only to you… Erik."_

_Victory danced in his irises as a primitive possession suddenly took over as he crushed his lips to hers, brutally devouring them with his raging ardor._

Jumping awake, Christine feverishly scanned her room for the delusional man she dreamt of seconds ago. Relieved she was alone, Christine sighed (though slightly disappointed), but there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep. The images of the man and knowing where that passionate kiss would lead left her strung up and mourning for something that wasn't going to happen.

All at once, shame and guilt overwhelmed her at the meaning of her thoughts. She was caught up with her dream she had forgotten Raoul. She was beginning to think she loved him and here she was having erotic dreams of another man. Specifically, a ghost of a dead man stalking her.

But what was worse, she knew she _wanted _him. She was practically mindless in his hold and would willingly do whatever he wished.

"Damn you," Christine cursed, though not sure who it was directed towards. "Why can't you leave me be? I can never be yours. _Never_."

She received no response, and probably for the better, she thought. Tomorrow would be opening night and Christine hoped that from now until then she could keep her sanity intact.

xxXXxx

"Nervous?" Meg asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Hardly," Christine replied, fixing her wig for the last time. "God, I look ridiculous! I don't remember Mom looking like a rag doll."

"Nonsense. You look good for a blonde, well… you know," Meg finished sheepishly. "Ready to woo Paris?"

Christine laughed. "Watch out France. The American girl is in town!"

Both began giggling just as Jamie came flying in the dressing room.

"Whoa, Jamie, slow down. You don't want to break your toe again now do you?" Meg teased.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha. By the way, Christine, this came for you."

Jamie handed her a fully bloomed crimson rose. The thorns had been removed and in place was an ebony silk ribbon tied around the stem. She exhaled the lovely fragrance from the flower, her face beaming like a child's.

"Did it say who's this from?" Christine asked the ballet dancer.

Jamie shrugged. "There was nothing but the rose. Mme Garrison gave it to me and said this was for you and that's all I know."

"I bet it's from Raoul!" Christine squealed. Holding the petals under her nose again, she smiled lopsidedly. "How romantic!"

"Or a secret admirer," Jamie added; only to quiet from Meg's glare.

Christine shook her head, her wig falling to the side. Annoyed, she pushed it back up and said, "No. I'm sure it was from Raoul."

"Whatever," Jamie grumbled.

Christine rolled her eyes and gazed adoringly at the rose. It was so perfect, so red and beautiful. It had to be from him. As she continued to stare at it, her eyes became glossy and distant…

_After another splendid performance, she found a gift from her Angel on her vanity._

_The reddest of roses lay innocently with the usual black ribbon, once more assuring her how pleased he was…_

"Um, Christine?"

Jamie cocked a brow in her direction. "I hope she's not breaking down."

"She's not," Meg said softly. "Jamie, you should go and rehearse some more before curtain call."

"But—" she protested.

"Go Jamie!" Meg barked, harsher than what she had meant to.

The ballet rat glared at her before walking away, mumbling under her breath. When she was gone, Christine began blinking, holding her hand to her head. Looking up, she frowned in confusion in the absence of Jamie.

"I sent her away," Meg told her. "Had another trip down memory lane?"

"Ye-ah," Christine admitted, shaking her head to clear her mind of anymore possible visions. "Meg… the rose is not from Raoul."

Meg pondered what she meant as they both left the dressing room. Showtime.

xxXXxx

It was a full house that evening and Christine felt her nerves gathering. No matter how many times she had performed, she always got a little sick before going out. Eventually it will go away, but this time, Christine had other things on her mind besides her role.

_He _had sent the rose. _Him_! And Adele gave it to Jamie to give it to her…

_Omgosh! _Christine thought. _Adele! But… that can't be. Could it? Does Meg even know?_

Probably not, she mused. Though, was Adele in cahoots with the Phantom? But the Phantom was a ghost or… was _he_? No he is. How else could he have been with her in the apartment? It didn't make sense. Nothing made _sense _at all anymore. Yet, she had no more time to think about it. There was her cue and she strutted out on stage. Facing the audience, she put on her best smile and sang her first lines:

_"Non, monsieur! Je ne suis demoiselle_

_ni belle, demoiselle, ni belle,_

_Et je n'ai pas besoin_

_Que l'on donne la main!" _(1)

Her angelic voice swept across the theatre, drawing the patrons into Faust's world of love and betrayal.

Christine flung herself into the part. She was singing for her parents, for her friends, for Raoul, and for herself. She refused to acknowledge the other being that attached himself to her. She couldn't give in she couldn't let him win, like Meg had said. If she did, then _he _would have control over her singing. No… that will not happen. Not if she can help it.

Act II closed and Christine was quickly applauded by her fellow costars and backstage people as she rushed into her room to prepare for her biggest scene—_The Jewel Song_.

Once more she was off as Marguerite, the energy and bubbling excitement of the character flowing through her veins upon finding the box of treasures. Clasping her hands together in joy, she fell beside it and began taking the jewelry to put it on her. Finding a small mirror, Christine took hold of it and held it up for her to admire the dazzling stones decorating her throat and ears. Standing up, she gazed happily into the glass as she sang:

_"Ah! je ris de me voir _

_si belle en ce miroir!"_ (2)

Dancing around on the stage, she continued to sing her surprise of the beauty she's seeing. Could this be her? Would he love her now?

_"Ah! je ris_

_de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!" _(3)

Prancing over back to the chest, Christine picked up a scoopful of more necklaces and held them to her breast as the music ended.

Everyone jumped up in a standing ovation to the newcomer, cheering and clapping. Christine, breathing hard, gazed out to them with a starry glaze. _They loved her…_

She stood up and bowed before scurrying off. _I did it! Oh my, I did it!_

xxXXxx

The final Act, in which, Marguerite is in prison for killing her child is visited by Faust and Mephistopheles to aid her in an escape. As Satan's messenger tries to get the lovers to flee with him, Marguerite denounces him and calls on the Angels for help.

_"Mon Dieu, protegez-moi!_

_Mon Dieu, je vous implore!_

_Anges purs, anges radieux,_

_Portez mon ame au sein does cieux!_

"_Dieu juste, a toi, je m'abandonne!_

_Anges purs, anges radieux,_

_Portez mon ame au sein des cieux!"_ (4)

On her last line, Christine tilted her head up to the Heavens, creating the allusion of her everlasting plea. From above, a droplet fell, landing on her white cheek and dripped down to her dress. Christine raised her fingers to see what the warm, sticky feeling was and her eyes widened.

Crimson dotted her nails.

Staring back up, Christine's mouth fell open but no sound prevailed. Something was falling… falling right at her.

The singer playing Mephistopheles yanked on her arm, pulling her out of the way just as the object jerked in mid-air.

Swinging side to side was the body of Joseph Brolin; his pupils large from fright bore into Christine.

All at once the screams erupted in a deafening tone. On stage, the performers were scattering off in a panic, but Christine remained in her shellshock.

A noose… a _noose _was thickly coiled around his throat. Blood, both wet and dry, covered his temples, his hair, and his lips… And his shirt was ripped open, baring his chest and a grueling message with blood seeping out…

_thE PhANtOM LiVeS!_

Head spinning, Christine looked up towards the owner's box into Raoul's own drained eyes, and gratefully succumbed into darkness.

TBC…

The scene of the "Jewel Song" was inspired by Robert Englund's Phantom of the Opera. I'm not too sure if I like this ending. I might change it… so please tell me what you think! Thanks!

Translations:

(1) No, sir! I am neither a lady

Nor beautiful, not a lady, or beautiful,

And I don't need

For anyone to give me his hand!

(2) Ah, I laugh to see myself

so beautiful in this mirror

(3) Ah, I laugh

to see myself so beautiful in this mirror!

(4) My God, protect me!

My God, I implore you!

Pure angels, radiant angels,

Carry my soul to the bosom of Heaven!

Just God, to you I abandon myself!

Pure angels, radiant angels,

Carry my soul to the bosom of Heaven!


	15. Chp 14: Trapped in Darkness

A/N: This here is my other favorite chapter. So far there's a lot of dark tones going on in this story, I decided to lighten things a little bit with some RC fluff. But it doesn't take away the complete mood of this chapter. Hee hee. Thank you again for the kind thoughts and to my beta Halley. Please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 14- Trapped in Darkness**

_Suicide… no… murder. _

_Joseph Buquet hung by the Opera Ghost in the third cellar!_

_He should have kept his mouth shut… old fool said Madame Giry. _

_Mutilated and blood… blood everywhere. His blood on her… _

_Erik!_

Christine was in and out of consciousness; she had no memory of what happened once Joseph Brolin's body was hanging in front of her eyes. She didn't know where she was or what was happening. She didn't know who was with her, if there even was _someone _with her. A blur. A great big blur of colors only to end into darkness. Sweet darkness, friendly night. The never-ending oblivion she continued to find herself in.

And a voice…

There was a heavenly tenor singing, drawing her ever close to the necessity of her mind; away from the world, her friends, and her newfound love. Oh, how easily it was to follow, to let go of the reality Christine once knew…

Yet, a single ray of light managed to fight its way through the deep layers of shadows, successfully attracting her to its lovely allure. And from this beam was also a voice. And this siren was calling her to wake, pleading for her not to give in. So tender and warm was this beckon that Christine strained to reach the end. It was safety.

But, she was pulled back into the plunging obscurity. There was a struggling war taking place between her heart and soul. Her heart longed to be in the sun, to be free; alas her soul was crying to be with the compelling darkness. Her mind was torn over which side to go—the light or dark? Both were welcoming though only one must be denied. But which? Which road dare she travel?

"_Mom and Dad, what should I do? What should I do?" she begged. "What is safe? Where do I belong?"_

Christine's eyes snapped open. Apparently, she made a decision… for the time being.

She moaned, her hand rubbing her throbbing forehead. She was awake to find herself with a headache. Christine went to stand up, only to be met with a tidal wave of dizziness that was set to keep her in bed. Cursing inwardly, she laid back in the crop of pillows. So far, nothing seemed to be going her way.

Looking around, Christine's headache worsened at each twist of her head. Giving up, she kept still; her only view was that of a door.

Frowning, Christine decided to chance the pain for a quick peek of the room. The pressure heightened once more, but it was enough for her to realize her situation. She was not in her own bed or room. There was no light or clock around for her to see what time of day it was. There was nothing but darkness.

She was carefully wrapped in blankets and had enough cushioning to secure her comfort, but the maddening thought of her in an unfamiliar place and the knowledge of not knowing _where _she was pushing her to the edge. And her only discomfort coming from her own body wasn't helping the predicament all that much.

Christine continued to stare ahead at the vacant door. Wherever she was, seemingly she was only permitted to see her exit but with no way of reaching it. Her own traitorous self confined her to the bed.

_Why does this feel somewhat familiar? _She pondered. _I feel as if I've been here before…_

The déjà vu sensation furthered her confusion until her memory bank decided to pose an inopportune onslaught of recollections. The room with no light… trapped no escape and the Vicomte…

Christine's body stiffened at a creak from behind the door, her form shaking as the door opened. _Not again! Oh God, please not again!_

"Hey, you're awake!"

And to her surprise and relief, Meg entered diligently with a huge smile on her face. "Thank Heavens! We were afraid we lost you or something."

The dancer sat on the edge of the bed, her entire countenance glowing. "You had us scared Dawson."

"I had you scared?" Christine said, her cheeks rushing with embarrassment. "You had me scared! I thought you were _him_!"

Meg frowned. "When you say 'him', you mean the Phantom him or the guy raping your past life him?"

"The second one," Christine answered, gently shaking her head. "I was this close to hyperventilating."

"Wouldn't want that to happen. Happy to know it's me?"

"Immeasurably." And Christine chuckled. "What happened?"

"You mean, you don't remember? Cherie, you _fainted_ when Brolin came down—"

"Argh. I remember _that _part." The brunette shuddered, not wanting to think about poor Brolin. She had Cat's death to worry about and she didn't want this one to be stuck in her conscience.

"Well, it's been a couple days. I won't say anymore on you-know-what unless you want me to. Anyways, after you fainted, Doctor Aston said there were no injuries on you so we didn't have to take you to the hospital. I didn't want to take you home because I was worried that we might still have that unwanted guest waiting to nab you during your weakest state. So, Raoul offered to take you to his place and here we are! I hope you're comfy." And the blonde smirked.

Christine rolled her eyes, only to stifle a groan. "That's all? Man, I feel like I was slammed against a brick wall repeatedly."

"Luckily you weren't. Look, there's probably something else I should tell you." Meg dropped her voice. "While you were out, you were… talking."

"Talking?"

Meg nodded. "Yeah in a different language. I think it was Scandinavian but I'm not sure. Neither was Maman or Raoul. We tried waking you up but wherever you were, you were in it deep. I was terrified out of my mind that he somehow got to you without knowing."

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" Christine couldn't help the tinge of panic that rode. If she was scared about telling Meg, and if anyone else were to find out, Christine was positive she would lose it.

"No. Your secret is still safe, though I think now might be a good time to let Raoul in on this. He was worried sick! He hadn't left your side for a single moment! I was able to get him to leave you an hour ago so he could rest a little. Christine, you can't keep this hiding forever. Sooner or later Raoul's going to demand for answers and if you don't tell him, then I won't hesitate to."

"Meg, I'm not a child who needs to be told what to do," she retorted. "I know. But it's not simple. It's not like I can just blurt it out."

"And why not? It would make the transition easier."

"What if I scare him away? I like him Meg. I like him so much!"

"You didn't scare me. See I'm still here. And so was Heather. Raoul is a pretty open-minded guy and you're not giving him enough credit. He'll believe you. Now, try not to overexcite yourself. When the right time comes, you're going to tell him. Promise?"

"Promise," Christine drawled. "Why couldn't I be born normal?"

Meg laughed. "Then you wouldn't be so damn interesting! Cheer up. I'll go get Raoul to see you."

She let out a defeated sigh as the blonde went out to get her boyfriend. Christine didn't have to wait long. Raoul showed up immediately, his flaxen hair disheveled and dark bags lined under his blue eyes. Meg wasn't kidding. He needed to sleep badly and her guilt rose that she was the cause of it.

"Oh Christine, you're all right! How do you feel? Is there anything you need? Just say the word and I'm at your service!" He kneeled at her side, concern etched all over his features.

Christine had a tiny smile on her lips. _He's too good. I don't deserve his kindness or love. Love? Does he love me? Do I love him? God, if my life wasn't already filled with enough drama…_

Realizing she hadn't answered him, Christine said. "I'm fine, Raoul. Thank you. But I could use some Tylenol and a glass of water if that's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. I hope Meg told you were at my place?"

"She did."

He grinned. "I'll be right back with milady's order." He was gone for a few minutes with the desired items. Graciously, Christine took the pill from him and swallowed it with a few sips of water. When she was done, Raoul took the glass from her to place it on the nightstand for her. Locking eyes, he took her hand in his, his thumb gently caressing her skin.

Christine's breath caught in her throat from the sweet ministration, but also because there was something in his eyes that he was going to say something. She prayed that this wasn't the "right time" that Meg told her.

"Christine," Raoul spoke, his caresses ceased. "I know this is not the best time, but if you have the strength to, I want to talk about opening night."

Relieved, she exhaled the air she was holding and nodded. "Okay," he said. "What happened to Brolin was a horrible incident but I should come clean about the Phantom."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Before you ever came here, the time I bought the theatre, I was receiving strange notes and my office was vandalized on a daily basis. I heard the rumors beforehand but I never had reason to believe them, despite my family's history. I couldn't believe that a ghost was haunting my theatre and who happens to hold a grudge against me."

"A grudge Raoul?" Christine repeated.

"Yeah. More so now than earlier. Adele had helped me to be on his good side, but that's changed since I met you. I know I should have told you this a long time ago but I was afraid you might think I was nuts or something."

"I don't think you're nuts," she assured him, squeezing his hand. _He thought **I **would think he was nuts? Oh Raoul, if you only knew about me than we probably wouldn't be having this conversation. _"Did you say Adele helped you?"

"Sure did. All I had to do was write him a letter, explaining my intentions to the Garnier were pure, which they were, and that he had nothing to fear about me ruining the establishment. Trust me; I thought the whole idea was nuts, yet it worked. I wasn't bothered no more. Then when you came, he was against Cat working and looked what happened! I'm not implying this Phantom had anything to do with her death; logically it couldn't but way things are…" his voice trailed off, lost in the thought.

Glancing at Christine, he cleared his throat. "And then there was my car… After I dropped you off, my car was literally destroyed and there was this message left behind. It was about you. This… this _thing _thinks you're his. Christine, I'm at a loss and I'm worried. I have reason to believe your voice has something to do with this belief. And I feel terrible. I brought you into this and it's my fault. I am so sorry."

Christine stared, flabbergasted. He thinks that the Phantom's sick fixation on her was his fault? All because of her voice? He didn't even know half of the story. But what also struck her odd was Adele's involvement. She had a sinking feeling about the older woman when Jamie had delivered the rose. And this new information was starting to confirm her early suspicions.

Antoinette Giry was the Phantom's confidante when he was alive; that was known from what Meg told her. Was it possible that Adele was the same to the spirit? Did Meg even know?

_Not likely_, she thought. But it made sense. If the Phantom was present, then he certainly would look for a descendent of his trusted friend to help him. And that person would be none other than Adele Garrison. Why though?

"Christine?" Raoul interrupted. "I understand if you might be mad at me from withholding this, but I thought I was protecting you. You mean a lot to me; more than anything."

The singer gazed deeply at him. His affection for her was clear and his words were true. Her heart fluttered at the loving look he was giving her as he held her hand up so he could lightly kiss her knuckles.

"Despite everything, Christine," he said. "I am so glad to have met you and have you here. No Phantom could ever keep me away from you."

Tears were beginning to well in her hazel eyes at his heartfelt confession. No words could describe to what Christine felt during this. Such a caring and wonderful man; she did not deserve him. But, she had him now and his promise of protection and near-love fueled the growing tenderness and warmth in her heart. It had to be love.

There was no other explanation. It wasn't a lustful attraction nor was it the heat of the moment from the precarious situation. It was now, at this very second, that Christine realized her feelings for Raoul de Chagny was the sort of love every woman dreams about. He was her knight in glimmering armor in more ways than one. And he cared so much about her to make the serious confession, to pour out his heart and soul. No other man she dated was so opened like he was being that this had to be real. He was brave enough to be honest to her that—

"Raoul there's something I have to tell you," Christine burst; overwhelmed by everything that was occurring. "I should have told you this before but I was too scared and now—"

The door opened to reveal Stacey and Jamie. Christine began shouting curses inside her mind at the interruption.

Raoul moved away from her, grinning at the new arrivals. "Hello ladies." Turning back to Christine, he asked, "What did you wanted to tell me?"

Looking at her friends to Raoul, she forced a smile. "Forget it. It wasn't anything too important."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Her conscience was screaming at her to stop and tell him, but the strength was no longer there. She lost it. "Go and get some sleep. I'm fine Raoul."

He cast one look at her before leaving the room, leaving her with Stacey and Jamie. Not that she wasn't grateful to see her friends, but she was angry at herself for closing the opportunity.

_Coward_.

xxXXxx

The next day Christine was well enough to return to the apartment. Meg was gone the previous night to make sure there weren't any spooks hanging around, waiting for them. The former was able to leave the bed to walk around Raoul's apartment, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him the whole truth. She was relieved that she could leave; for staying any longer would crush her with the disgusting guilt for not being completely honest. She loved him, she truly did, but would he return her feelings if he were to know about her dreams about Erik?

She was using it as an excuse for the time being and she had no doubt in her mind that Meg would do the favor for her if Raoul were to ask the dancer. And learning from another source would surely hurt him and their relationship. Christine couldn't have that.

"Yoo-hoo! Earth to Christine Dawson!"

Christine shook her head, snapping out of her dark thoughts. Looking at Meg, she sheepishly chuckled. "Sorry. I just spaced out a little."

"No kidding. So… uh, while I was gone did you talk to Raoul yet?"

Christine groaned. "Please Meg. Not now."

"You didn't," she observed. "Damnit Christine, when are you?"

"I'm stuck in an emotional overload, okay?" She collapsed on the couch. "Raoul wants to protect me. I mean so much to him that he wants to know if anything paranormal happens to me. Meg… if only you could have seen his face! I don't deserve him. I'm stupid and pathetic and I don't deserve him."

"For the love of—" Meg loudly clapped her hands, causing Christine to jump out of her skin. "Listen to me and listen carefully, got it?" She nodded.

"You're only stupid and pathetic because you're letting yourself be that. And quit the 'I don't deserve him' drama. Save it for someone who gives a damn. You do deserve him, Christine. You two are made for each other and it took you guys a while to get to where you are now. So I don't want to hear anymore whining. Now do you love the guy or not?"

Startled by her friend's harangue, Christine nodded wordlessly.

"Then tell him. If he was man enough to tell you this, then by God woman you have to be man enough to tell him also. Otherwise, all this putting off will hurt you at the end and in that case you won't deserve him and some other woman will snatch him. And we don't want that to happen. So… will you tell him or do you want to kiss him good-bye?"

"I'll tell him," Christine mumbled. "But it's not easy."

"And who says a good, healthy relationship is? Christine, go with me on this and believe me when I tell you everything will be all right. Think about it and how you're going to approach it. It's going to mean a lot to him when you come forward."

"You're right Meg. I promise I will and I promise I won't whine anymore about the subject."

Meg smirked. "Thank you!"

Christine laughed and got up to go into her room. She was going to need to do plenty of thinking before she talks to Raoul. Her searching eye found the rose she received on top of her dresser in a little vase with water. Next to it was a note in Jamie's hurried scribble, _You forgot this. Love, Jamie_.

Meg probably didn't know the rose was even here. Christine strode over and picked up the flower. For a moment, she touched the petals, wondering how something so beautiful could be changed to dislike so quickly.

Crushing the delicate rose in her hands, Christine discarded the fallen petals and stem. _I'm not his. And I'll never be his._

xxXXxx

"Congratulations Christine!"

"Good job!"

Christine nodded her thanks to a couple passing chorus girls on her way to her dressing room. Once more she had another triumph as Marguerite. People were constantly filling in the seats to get their chance to listen to this new star hailing from New York City. The disaster of Joseph Brolin was forgotten and all seemed to be going well for the singer.

Stepping inside, she was surprisingly greeted by her beaming boyfriend. Armed with a dozen carnations, Raoul kissed her mouth and handed his gift to her. "You sang beautifully tonight! I don't think a single person has left this theatre not weeping."

She rolled her eyes, playfully hitting his arm. "Thank you Raoul."

Kissing his cheek, she smiled and went over to the vanity, setting the flowers down. "I can't believe it. Just a few more shows and it's over. Time has flown by."

"It sure did." He walked over so he was now standing behind her; a grin tugging on his lips. "But it could last longer, if you like."

Grabbing her attention, Christine stared in the mirror at him. "M. de Chagny, what do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you were here temporarily until we had a permanent resident, but I could never find one to replace you that could have done you justice. So… I had pulled some strings and talked to your agent."

"Doris? What about exactly?"

"Christine, would you want to be the Garnier's leading soprano indefinitely?"

Her eyes widened and mouth wide-opened. "Oh my God…"

"I talked to Meg and she enjoyed having you live with her so you can continue staying with her until we see how things between us work…" Raoul let the thought hang in the air for her, his grin never wavering. "How about it?"

"Oh my God…" she repeated. "Yes! YES!"

Letting out a squeal of delight, Christine crushed him in a bear-hug. Laughing, Raoul returned the embrace. "I was hoping you would like it."

"I do! Oh man, I have so much to do! I still have some things in New York I have to bring over and oh my God thank you so much!" she cried ecstatically. Gazing up at him, Christine wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down to show her appreciation in a long, lazy passionate kiss.

Raoul moaned softly, opening his mouth for their tongues to explore one another, as the kiss deepened. He broke away, his mirth breaking across his countenance. "I guess you really liked the idea."

"You…" Christine giggled, kissing him once more, though this time gently.

"Before I forget, there's more." He winked. Christine's jaw dropped. "More?"

"Our annual Halloween Masquerade is coming up and I figured I would make the announcement of your stay then. And… I was hoping you would join me as my date."

"Let me think." She closed one eye in contemplation as he laughed. "Hmmm… I believe I'm free. Though, you are assuming that I would go with you."

"Did I think wrong?" Raoul teased.

"You do know I have to turn down all of my adoring male devotees, but I'm sure they won't mind for this one night."

"I would hope so," he said solemnly. "Otherwise, I would have to make them pay dearly."

"Let me get dress and maybe I'll let you treat me to some dinner. That is until someone better comes along."

Raoul growled, nipping her nose. "I'll be outside waiting."

She watched him go and quickly threw on her clothes. Christine was in awe that she would be singing here for good. It was a dream come true and in a good way. Nothing will ruin their celebration as she warily scanned the room. So far… no signs of a jealous poltergeist in sight. Perfect…

Christine went out and together, she and Raoul, left hand-in-hand.

xxXXxx

Christine and Raoul stayed out late and by the time Christine was home, she was exhausted. She literally fell asleep once she crawled into bed, her mind seeping into the world of dreams…

"_Oh Christine…" he groaned, pulling her petite form closer to him. "Why do you torture me so?"_

_Her answer was her hand dipping into his shirt, her nails scratching his chest. He let out another tormented hiss, squeezing her tighter._

"_I'm sorry you think so, Maestro," she purred. "But I promise I won't anymore."_

"_Don't say things you don't mean," he growled. "You hurt me so much when you do that. You don't mean to hurt your poor Erik, now do you?" He lowered his mouth to her neck, tentatively snaking his tongue out to taste her salty flesh. "Christine…"_

"_Never," she gasped, as his teeth started to graze her skin. "P-please!"_

"_Please what Christine?" he whispered, his hold never loosening. "You're mine. Now and forever. You belong to no one!"_

"_No one Erik!" she cried. "Only you… I belong to you and no one else, I swear!"_

_To her anguish, he broke free from the embrace, his eyes molten and burning with desire. His lips twisted upwards in a cruel grin at her trembling body. "You yearn for my touch, yet you're the one who is only hurting yourself, my dear. You say you belong to me, but you flee. If you truly want me, then you must give in. Stop denying the darkness Christine. Stop denying what you know is true. I am your Master and not that boy!" And he turned his back on her._

"_Don't go!" she shouted._

"_I won't ever leave you, Christine. Never. When you decided, I'll be waiting. Don't keep your poor Erik long for your answer."_

Christine jumped out of her thoughts, looking around in her dressing room. Another show was over and she was half-way dressing when her dream from the other night returned. Her body was warm as she tried to ignore the screaming need in her.

_You're acting like a wanton creature! _She accused herself. _And over who? A dead guy who obsessed over your past life. You truly are messed up Christine Dawson._

But it couldn't be her fault. Christine Daae was in love with him, so it stood to reason that she would have these thoughts since she never was with him before. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, Christine finished putting on her shirt.

He wanted an answer and she'll give him an answer. She had a good idea where to find him and she took the necessary precaution and brought a flashlight. Knowing the Phantom or Erik for a while, Christine knew where his hide-out would be.

xxXXxx

"Hey Meg, do you know where Christine is?" Raoul asked as he came back from Christine's dressing room. "She wasn't in her room and I thought you might know."

"Sorry. I don't." Meg replied. Frowning, she tried wracking her brain but couldn't think of where the brunette could possibly be. "If I see her, I'll tell her you were looking for her."

Raoul nodded but that wasn't good enough for him. Why would she disappear without telling anyone where she would be? She should know better…

Raoul turned on his heels, deciding to check the dressing room once more.

xxXXxx

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Christine said to herself, as she entered Christine Daae's dressing room.

The light beam scoured the empty room, dust and cobwebs once more decorating the vacant space. It was so pitiful to see such a beautiful room rot without use all because of a ghost.

Christine explored whatever she saw and discovered the portrait had returned to its proper place behind the vanity. _Good. I don't think I could spare another glimpse of it!_

She heard a low groan and spun around to face the door. It was still shut and she was alone. Turning around, Christine shone the flashlight to the one spot she never wanted to see again. The large-length mirror…

Her heart began to thump wildly once she saw it was opened, just wide enough for a very thin person to slide in. Taking a large gulp, Christine wandered over to it.

A rotten stench was coming through the crack as Christine fought back a gag. Part of her wanted to turn around and never come back, but she squashed the fear immediately. This could be her only shot to get rid of Erik and she couldn't risk turning into a chickenshit right now.

She set the flashlight on the floor and with all of her might, pushed on the mirror so it would open further for her. Satisfied, she bent down for her light and plunged into the awaiting darkness.

The hideous scent was strong and looking at the man-made tunnel, Christine figured it was mildew. Not very pleasant, she noted, of course but at least it wasn't anything human.

The walls were stone and putting a hand on the clammy surface, she wrenched it away with a squeak. Slimy and disgusting.

She lowered the beam to the floor to see a dirt path and gravel. It wasn't too bad… not like the walls. Looking from side to side, Christine wasn't sure where to go but let her instincts take her wherever.

Christine took the passage to the left; the only guide was her flashlight. She walked down, her eyes scanning the narrow corridors in amazement. She could be, at this moment, be using the very same path the Phantom did and possibly Christine Daae. For some reason, she found the startling fact intriguing.

Moving stealthy, Christine abruptly stopped once the flashlight began to flicker.

"Oh no. No, no, no!" she moaned, as the light disappeared. Annoyed and anxious, she started hitting the flashlight in hopes it was a fluke and the light would reappear.

To her joy, it did and soon she was on her way. Taking several steps, Christine froze as she heard a soft echo of footsteps. And then it vanished. Carefully, she took one step, followed by another echo.

She nervously giggled. "Geez, Christine. It's only you."

She was about to continue until she heard a heavy set of footsteps. It sounded like it was coming everywhere!

Spinning around in her spot, Christine held out the flashlight. "W-who's there?" she called.

When she got no reply, Christine tried a bit louder and forceful. "Is anyone there? Answer me!"

_Christine…_

"No, no…" she murmured. "Get yourself together. Get yourself together. Get yourself—"

_Christine!_

Swallowing hard, she did her best not to panic. That voice… she could recognize that voice for as long as she lived.

"I know it's you Erik!" Christine shouted. "Show yourself!"

The light blinked and quickly she smacked it so it was working. Holding it as steady as she could, Christine peered through the darkness and the simple light she had.

The ray moved forward until a black pair of shoes was revealed. She choked back, as she raised the flashlight, exposing more to her naked eyes.

There were ebony pants and a cape, blowing gently. Breathing raggedly, Christine lifted it so she could see the face.

A man. A man was standing no more than ten feet away from her, his entire frame covered by the shade of darkness and a dark fedora tilted to the front, blocking a good portion of his countenance. But Christine didn't need to see what was hiding beneath. Oh no… She had more than enough share from her dreams.

Two piercing dots glared through the night, looking straight through her. Almost into her very soul…

All she had to say to him fled her mind, leaving her to move her lips without sounds.

She caught a tiny lift of his misshapen lips to form a grin, which appeared to be just as sinister as his presence.

"_Christine," _he whispered his hand moving slightly out for her. _"Come to me."_

Her mouth opened and she couldn't scream. Her feet wouldn't move. She was stuck staring at this phantom.

The figure floated closely to her, the hand that was covered by a black glove still was out. Very deftly, the thin fingers reached out to tenderly trace her lower jaw. His eyes not leaving hers, a pleased twitch of his lips grew.

"_Good girl…" _He breathed. _"Very good…"_

Before Christine could yell out, the flashlight died as a pair of arms grabbed her.

TBC…


	16. Chp 15: Adele Speaks Out

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you again for your support and lovely comments. Sad to say there are only 4 more chapters left and I figured I would give a hint to the pairing at the end. It's EC and RC. Confused? Well, it's possible and I'm a sucker for happy endings and this one will have a happy one. My other story, _A Deadly Obsession_, however won't. Please don't forget to review as they write faster!

**Chapter 15- Adele Speaks Out**

"What the Hell were you thinking! You could have been hurt!" cried Raoul. He furiously paced the floor of his office, running his hands through his hair in desperation. "Jesus Christ Christine! After things with Cat and Brolin, I thought the worse happened to you."

Christine sat numbly, watching her boyfriend vent. She felt horrible, no beyond horrible, even though his anger was his concern over her. Like a child in trouble, she lowered her face to the ground, clenching her fingers and trying not to let her tears fall.

"What possessed to you to even go down there? Why would you risk harming yourself? For what? I was lucky enough to pass that way."

"Raoul, I'm sorry but I—" she began.

"I told you! I told you what that freakin' thing wanted and you still—" Raoul paused, fervently shaking his head. "Christine… I'm disappointed. I really am. I thought… I thought…" He fell on his knees in front of her, both hands on either side of her. "Why? Tell me why?" he pleaded.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Raoul. Honestly I didn't. It's not easy to explain why but you have to trust me—"

"Trust you? I do trust you! But when you pulled this stunt… Christine I want to make sure you're safe and how can I when you won't cooperate?"

"Cooperate?" Christine repeated. "Raoul, this was the first time so don't—"

"Yeah, well, first times can lead to a second and a third," Raoul cut in. "Just please, don't leave anywhere until you tell me, Meg, or Adele, okay?"

"What? Raoul I'm not a little girl who needs a nanny," she snapped, becoming agitated at his irrational behavior. "I can take care of myself! So don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you. I want to know that you will be all right until everything is solved," he argued back.

"And how are we going to do that if you won't let me try?" Christine scoffed. "Raoul, I think I'm the only who can stop him."

"What?" He exclaimed.

"I saw him. I saw the Phantom, Erik, Opera Ghost, whatever. He was down there with me. I saw his face, I saw him! He won't hurt me, Raoul, I know he won't. If you could let me, I might be able to settle the score."

"Chris—" he stopped himself. Looking up at her, he sighed. "What makes you even think he won't hurt you? You don't know that, I don't know that, and I'm not going to have you risk it."

"But _he _won't," she persisted. "Raoul, this may sound strange to you, but Erik cares about me. Nothing bad will befall me."

"Wait, Erik? Christine…"

"His name is Erik, Raoul. And before you ask how I knew this, listen please." She licked her lips. This was it. This was the finale. "For as long as I can remember, I had these dreams. Visions, actually, of a past life. I knew things I shouldn't know as a kid. They're all centered on the Garnier, Raoul, and him."

"Past life? Christine what are you talking about?" he demanded.

"This may sound creepy and frankly I'm still adjusting to it, but I was part of the scandal. A **big **part of the affair actually. I don't know if I should tell you the whole thing now, but believe me, okay? Erik would rather hurt himself than me."

"He's _dead_ Christine! D-E-A-D. Look, I'm tired and you're obviously tired. Let's go home and pretend this didn't happen. Then tomorrow, once we're both refreshed, we'll talk more about it. Deal?"

Her face fell. He didn't believe her…

Christine felt her heart rip into two. What if he never believes her? What if he decides she's not what he wanted? Meg was wrong. Raoul may never understand. And she had thought that with his dealings with Erik, there was a chance he would believe her…

"Forget it," Christine mumbled, getting up and leaving the office without another glance. She moved in a brisk pace until she was outside, where Meg stood by the curb, waiting for her.

The blonde perked up once she saw Christine, but quickly turned at the sight of her tears. "What happened Christine?"

"Raoul… He doesn't believe me," Christine sobbed, going into the car and slamming it close.

Meg hurried into the car and took off. Christine would not say anymore to her on the ride back to the apartment until they were safely in. Then she sat down and cried out everything. The visit to Daae's dressing room, the secret path, Erik, and finally the conversation with Raoul.

Her friend listened carefully and felt a stab of guilt in her chest once Christine finished. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Raoul was supposed to be understanding. "Christine, I didn't know—"

"It's not your fault, Meg. You thought what I was hoping for. Who knows? Maybe I imagined Erik…"

"But it could have been him, Christine," Meg pressed. "Though, I'm going to side with Raoul on that one. You shouldn't have been alone; I could have been there with you."

"Meg, what if you were there and he didn't show? He was waiting for me and me alone. He might not be able to hurt me, but I can't say the same for those I care about. It's best I handle this on my own."

"And look what a fine job you did," she replied dryly. "Sorry. I'm upset that he could have taken you when he had the chance. Thankfully, Raoul was there to save you, huh?"

"Yeah but he didn't see Erik. I'm sure if he did he would have said something… maybe that would have been helpful. The point is I don't what to do. I don't know if I would have another chance to stop Erik. God, there are so many 'I don't knows' or 'what ifs'. Maybe I need to sleep after all and tackle this with a clean slate."

Meg nodded in agreement. "That might be the best thing." Then a new thought struck her. "Um, Christine? How did you know he was waiting for you?"

Christine, who was on her way to bed, stiffened. Slowly turning around, she gaped at the older girl. "A-a dream. I dreamt I was with him and he wanted me to come to him."

"It wasn't a vision, was it?"

"No…"

Meg jumped up, a determined countenance. "Then, if he can communicate with you through dreams, he might be able to snatch you the same way. It's only a theory, but what do you say to a little sleepover?"

"Sleepover?" Christine echoed.

Meg nodded. "Yeah. Let me call Stacey and Jamie. They would love it and if the Phantom tries to pull something, then he has three females on his tail who won't be afraid to kick his spiritual ass."

Christine laughed and finally agreed. "Alright."

xxXXxx

Christine squeezed her eyes tightly and winced. Seconds ago she was having pleasant dreams and now everything around her was growing dark. Tossing her head side-to-side, her mouth shaped an "o", but couldn't make any sounds that would awaken her friends. She was slipping deeper and deeper into the magnetic pull, deeper in the back of her mind and _him_….

_She sat by her old guardian, Mama Valerius, chatting excessively and gleefully until a familiar young man came stampeding in._

_Good old Mama Valerius welcomed the flustered Vicomte, who ignored all pleasantries and shooting out questions as to where she was for the last few weeks. _

_The alarming sadness in his beautiful baby blues tore at her heart, but he was her friend and she… they had to be reminded there could be nothing more or less between them. _

_All of a sudden, his face dropped, once he caught sight of the dangling golden ring on her finger. It was too late to hide it…_

"_You have no husband and yet you wear a wedding ring!" he announced in agony._

_She shook her head. "It's a gift, dear Raoul! From a friend that is all." Yet that wasn't enough to pacify the raging man._

"_That ring means a promise, which has been accepted! Do you deny that?"_

_How could she reply? He didn't know the horrible truth… he wouldn't understand that she had to stop the sobs. Oh those sobs! She never in her life had heard such cries from a person. Right now, drumming in her head, she could hear him. Wanting love… wanting her… God it was too much! _

_She had to accept. She had to! And though she loathed the skeletal man who forced the ring on her hand, her heart couldn't find the excuse to hate him. Tried as she might, she could not hate Erik. Dear sweet, poor Erik. He was the Voice, he taught her to sing! She could not judge him harshly or loathe him for the ring or the love he has for her. _

_Erik was a peculiar man. Despite him being worldly, he was rather pathetic in some ways. It wasn't his fault he did not know the right way to win her affections. He did not know what love was or the many types of love that exist. Raoul did not know him. He did not know the suffering that Erik went through. In all of her meetings, Raoul was the first to put him down. A man he did not even know…_

"_Why must you condemn a man for whom you never seen, whom no one knows, and whom you know nothing of?" she retorted, angry with her childhood friend. "You know nothing! So don't accuse him or me of anything Vicomte!"_

_Before he could respond, Raoul's face melted away, as did Mama Valerius and the surroundings, leaving her cold and alone. _

_Taking a hesitant step forward, Christine was blinded by a storm of lights, shining on her. And then there were heads! Heads! _

_There were hundreds… no thousands all around. And they were all of her! Dirty, matted brown locks and brown eyes, dull and lifeless. And they were waiting… waiting for her…_

_Christine found her voice and began screaming, which all the other Christines began screaming as well. Louder and louder they crescendo, almost drowning out her plea for help. Anyone's help…_

_The floor beneath her feet, gave way and Christine fell into the depths of darkness. Falling… falling… falling…_

…_into the arms of her savior. Her Angel._

"_Christine," he whispered longingly, his eyes blazing with lust._

"_No!" she shouted, wriggling from his grasp. "Go away! Go away!" _

_Still he held her in a bridal fashion, his head thrown back in laughter. The recognizable pungent stench stung her nostrils as Christine gasped for air. The smell! It was overpowering… it was everywhere! _

_One last time, her arm flailed out and hit her captor, causing the porcelain black mask to fall and break._

_She took one look at the grinning corpse's head and screamed with a renew force, making her eardrums ring. Yet, he never let go and he continued to laugh at her._

_Pus oozed through the pores of his left side; the purple blood vessels pulsating wildly. The nose was missing! A huge black gape was in its place, the yellowish dead flesh that was on his cheek was scarce and twisted in a grotesquely manner as if it was decaying already! The lips were huge, misshapen and purple; and his eyes! The fire that was literally glowing was growing stronger that she feared would burst from their sockets! _

_His lips snarled, baring his discolored, sharp teeth as Christine's screams were reaching a deafening level. The grip on her small body was unbearable; her chest was being slammed into his bony torso. The past dreams were nothing in comparison to this man of death before her very eyes. _

"_Why Christine? Why?" he spat in her face, his breath wreaking the stingy odor. "All I ever did was loved you and this is how you repay me? Yes, the corpse loves you and he'll love you even 'til death do us part! Behold your undead husband and you! My living wife!"_

_Her mouth dropped in astonishment and horror. "No…"_

"_You're mine forever," he grunted. "I let you go once and now you returned. You promised me, Christine. You promised and now you're never leaving me again!"_

"_I'm not her!" Christine sobbed. "I'm not Christine Daae!" _Oh Meg, where are you! Wake me up! _Her mind bellowed. "Let me go! Let me go, you monster!"_

_Even the name didn't faze him as he carried her away. "Soon Christine," he vowed, half-dreamily. "Soon we'll be home."_

"_NO! I'M NOT HER! STOP!"_

_But he wouldn't listen to her struggles and continued his repetition. "Soon. Soon my love."_

_At the top of her lungs, she gave out one last cry, "MEG!"_

Christine started so quickly, knocking Meg, Stacey, and Jamie to the floor. Panting at a high rate, the brunette burst into tears.

Her friends jumped up and all at once were saying things to her. The poor, frightened girl was growing hysterical that Meg sent Stacey and Jamie to get some water _immediately_.

When they were gone, Meg grasped her shoulders and shook her hard. "Was it him!"

"Yes!" she cried. "Oh God, he was holding me… his face! That face! A-and h-he said I was h-his w-wife!"

"Shh! Shh!" Meg murmured, wrapping her arms around her neck, so Christine could cry into her shoulder. "It's over. It's over."

"I couldn't wake!" Christine went on. "I tried calling for you, but you weren't there! I couldn't wake!"

"It's okay now. You're awake and there's no Phantom," Meg cooed.

Just then, Stacey and Jamie came back. Jamie smiled at her and said, "That must have been some nightmare! Next time, we shouldn't order Chinese from that restaurant anymore."

xxXXxx

For the rest of the night, Christine made sure she was in a light doze and if she were to fall into a deep sleep, she would force her eyes open. Meg kept a sharp ear out in case Christine called for help or anything; Jamie and Stacey slept with no qualms.

Christine had enough of this. She was tired of being afraid. One could remain awake for so long and she wasn't about to deny herself sleep all because Erik wanted her as his… wife.

The idea seemed so foreign to her. Sure, she had her fantasies of becoming a bride one day, but to a ghost? She always envisioned the handsome man who would come crashing into her life and making her fall in love with him. It would be right. She had Raoul and she could easily picture herself as the future Mrs. de Chagny if he wanted her too. But Erik's? Maybe as Christine Daae but not today.

Christine knew the time has come to end this once and for all. She needed to convince Erik that she could not be a replacement to Christine Daae. Christine was Christine Dawson, born and raised in New York City and abroad. And there she needed to explain the whole truth to Raoul. She will not cry nor run away if he should not believe her. She will stand up and do what should have been done a while ago.

The Masquerade was coming soon so it would be the perfect time to take off all of her masks to reveal her true self to the man she loved. Yes. That is exactly what she'll do and the rest of the fate of their relationship will rest in Raoul's hands.

Though, how to deal with Erik…

Adele. Adele would have the answers since she must know something. And Christine will enlist Meg to help and force her mother to answer her questions about Erik. Tomorrow will be the day of attack towards Adele Garrison and Christine found herself looking forward to the moment.

xxXXxx

After Jamie and Stacey left, Christine revealed to Meg of her theory towards her mother. Like she had assumed, Meg took offense to the preposterous notion that _her mother _had anything to do with the Phantom. Yet, she persisted, pointing out the stories Adele had told Meg when she was younger, probably to protect her from his wrath; the solemnity of her countenance and tone of any discussion about the Phantom, to prevent anyone from angering him or keeping the idea in mind to discourage anyone from seeking him out; and the rose with the black ribbon and how Jamie said Adele handed it to her for Christine. All these added up that Adele Garrison had something to do with the conspiracy.

"But why would Maman do this?" Meg questioned. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does, Meg! I'm surprised you haven't made the connection already," Christine said. "You told me about your ancestors and how you knew for a fact that your great-great-great grandmother dealt with the Phantom. Can't you see it?"

"Y-yes but," she stuttered. "Why would Maman team up with the Phantom? She's just as terrified him as Jamie."

"Maybe he used that to secure her fidelity," Christine suggested. "He could have blackmailed her. Probably using you as the bait."

Face paled, Meg stared aghast at her friend. "Do you really think so? Oh Maman…" Tears gushed out through her ocean blue irises. "I never knew… and I'm so horrible!"

"Meg?"

The blonde sniffled. "I…I thought the only reason she kept secrets from me was because she didn't trust me. And I was so hard on her, never getting along. What she must feel…"

"Meg, you didn't know so it's no use beating yourself about it," Christine pointed out. "I'm sure your mother knew you meant well." Handing her a tissue, Christine smiled reassuringly to her. "Now that we both know, I'm sure she'll really appreciate it if we help her out of this mess."

"Right." Meg paused to think for a moment. "If you want to confront her today, we will have to do it where _he _won't hear or catch us. He might not do harm to you, but to me and Maman… I don't need to draw a picture after Cat or Brolin."

Christine nodded. "Then what do you propose?"

Meg smirked. "Somewhere he won't think of looking."

xxXXxx

"Meg, do you think your mom will show?" Christine questioned, casting an anxious look in her direction.

"She said she'd be here. From the way she sounded on the phone, she was pretty cooperative."

"That's good."

Meg frowned. "She was too quick to agree. I think she knows that we know."

"Oh." Christine had to admit Meg's idea of having Adele meet them at a church was genius. Though, she had her doubts it would work. Fortunately, Meg knew the priest residing and he offered his office for them to use. It was very obliging of the elderly man.

Sure enough, Adele walked in. The ballet mistress held a dreaded visage and as Christine noted relief in her eyes.

Silence passed over Meg and Adele; the former couldn't hide the pain from showing through. A wounded, "Why?" broke the tension.

"I had to Megara," Adele confessed, the older woman's features falling. "Our family owed it to him."

"So? He's a _ghost_!" Meg retorted.

Adele sadly shook her head and walked over to sit down on the small sofa in the corner. "He's a powerful one. Not like normal ghosts."

"Adele," Christine cut in. Adele glanced wearily over to her and the American pitied her. "I don't know if you knew this, but I'm the reincarnation of Chris—"

"Christine Daae," she interrupted. "I know. And he knows it. That's why he targeted you."

Christine nodded. "What does he want?"

"My dear, he wants what was denied to him in his lifetime. Unfortunately, he doesn't know the true fate of his beloved. I had tried explaining when I realized who he was, but ghosts are stuck in the past from where they once lived. He knows this isn't his century but nothing else can be told. He knew you were Christine Daae like he knew I was related to Madame Giry, the ballet mistress of his time."

Watching both girls, Adele took a deep breath. "I should have told you from the beginning, I am sorry I didn't, but would you have believed me? Not likely and I couldn't jeopardize my position in the theatre nor Megara's. You don't know how happy I was for you, Christine, to come here. I knew you could help him lay to rest."

The look Christine was receiving wasn't at all pleasing to her. Help him?

"Maman, how did you know Christine Daae's fate? No one knows but us and Raoul," Meg asked.

"Our gracious family left diaries as you know. But, there was one diary that only our side kept in secret. It was written by Antoinette Giry herself before she died. She had a contact within the de Chagny household who told her everything about the girl she esteemed as another daughter. She learned of her tragic fate and the love for the Phantom. So in hopes to make it better, Antoinette went down to the Phantom's lair to tell him what the Vicomte had done."

"But he didn't know so something must have happened," Christine pointed out.

"Yes. Antoinette found him dead at the end of his own Punjab lasso. He was so distraught that Christine never returned like she promised him and believed it was nothing but a lie. His life was no worth living…"

Christine clasped her hand over her mouth. Tears well up at the thought of poor Erik waiting for his love and then thinking she was lying when it was far from the truth.

Adele agreed to Christine's actions. "I felt the same too, my dear. His soul was condemned to the theatre and there he remains in hopes of Christine Daae returning. And she has. You."

"I'm not her!" Christine protested. "I seen her picture and I look nothing like her."

"You do. If you had blonde hair then you would be twins," Adele explained. "You have her soul, Christine, and Erik senses it in you. Christine Daae's love for him is still there and he feels it. That's why he comes to you, through dreams, yes?"

"Y-yeah," Christine replied. "But I don't love him."

"No. You, Christine Dawson, don't, but you do have some feelings for him, which is enough. But the real Christine Daae, the one who gave you your voice and your visions, does." Adele smiled, her lips trembling. "I know all of this about you, for I am the reincarnation of Antoinette Giry. I was expecting you to come to Paris for a while and after M. de Chagny went to New York; I knew he would bring back you."

"Oh my God," Meg said, her eyes wide. Shifting from her mother and her friend, her jaw dropped. "This is totally freaky."

"I'll say," Christine laughed nervously. Gazing at Adele, she smiled amiably. "I cannot believe this is happening. Is Raoul-?"

Adele bit her lip. "I don't really know."

"But Erik hates him—"

"Yes because of his name. He knows de Chagny took his Christine from him and he holds a grudge against anyone from the family. My own knowledge of the past limits me into knowing who your identity is. And no one else's, I'm afraid. I suppose I don't have to tell you about Cat and Brolin?"

"No Maman," Meg told her. "We knew it was Erik."

"They were innocent," Adele murmured. "They did not deserve to die."

"Yet it was for me, wasn't it?" Christine questioned. "Christine Daae. If I hadn't accepted the part, they would be here."

"Christine, do not blame yourself," Adele scolded. "You had no control over their fates. You didn't know his jealousy."

"But he destroyed Raoul's car," Christine sighed. "He could hurt him next."

Adele didn't comment. Meg had one more question that was bothering her from the moment Christine told her of her suspicions. "Maman," she started. "If you knew all of this, why didn't you tell me? Why did you help him?"

"Ah, my mignon. I wanted too. I really wanted to tell you everything, but like Christine, would you have believed me? Besides, some things are best not known until the time has come along."

"Did he threaten you?" Meg cried out suddenly.

"No! Erik did not threaten me. He needed a friend and since our ancestor was so accommodating, he looked for the same source."

"If he came to me, I would flat out say no," the blonde grumbled.

Adele grinned. "Yes and he came to me." Looking up at Christine, the older woman was uplifted. "I'm glad to have gotten this out. I had kept my silence far too long."

Christine concurred to herself. "Adele, do you know what I should do?"

Placing a comforting hand on her knee, Adele continued to grin in a secretive manner. "I think you have your answer already."

Yet, it wasn't the one she was hoping for.

TBC…


	17. Chp 16: Return of the Red Death

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! And finally the Masquerade scene! And I haven't forgotten Kanye, if any were interested. He's back in here. Thank you all for the feedback and to my beta Halley. Enjoy and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 16- Return of the Red Death**

Christine had been in deep surprise to know the truth of Adele Garrison. To learn that she, too, was a reincarnated soul was almost a joy, a kindred spirit to her. At least Christine had found someone to understand her feelings quite well. But she was a little apprehensive of what she must do to help Erik. Adele had told her the answer was already known to her, but what did that mean? Did it mean that she would have to belong to the Phantom? Though what of Raoul?

She had told Adele about Raoul and how he had taken the news. Adele, admittedly, was shocked and upset by her good friend. Like Meg and Christine, she had assumed that with the troubles of before he would have been more opened and willing to the brunette. Yet, it appeared that they were all wrong with their perceptions of Raoul de Chagny.

Adele had said not to give up hope on him and Christine wasn't. She loved Raoul very much and she wasn't ready to lose him just yet. The only difficult obstacle in the way would be whether or not if he would accept Christine's true origins. If only she or Adele were able to know if Raoul was another reincarnated being as well. The visions of the former had revealed a look-alike to him, but that didn't mean he was the Vicomte in a past life.

The three women concluded after the meeting there would be no talk of this to anyone, not even Raoul, in case _he _were to overhear and learn of their intentions. When the right time came Raoul would learn all of this and hopefully by then Erik would be in peace.

Before leaving the sanctity of the church, Christine confessed to Adele her recent dream involving Erik, his wish to make her his living bride. Clasping the young woman's hand, Adele boldly stared into her hazel eyes with her own grays.

"Next time, do not let him near you, as hard as it maybe," she warned. "He's a spirit and can easily kidnap your spirit through your dreams. Do not let him win. He's no match when he's not in his physical form."

The warning had sent chills throughout her body. She had been _very_ close to losing her soul that night.

xxXXxx

Panting hard, Meg heaved the heavy armful of bags onto the table. Brushing back a strand of honey-brown, she looked over to the couch where the still raised hand of Christine's laid.

Chuckling to herself, Meg shook her head. The last two nights had been hard on her friend. Christine spent the most part awake contemplating what to do if she were to fall asleep and face Erik.

Meg knew she should wake her up, but Christine was in dire need of some z's and she was going to give it to her while keeping watch. She began to go through the bags, taking out the milk and eggs to put in the refrigerator when a low moan came from the living room. Not risking it, Meg ran over to see Christine. The brunette's face was twisted into a grimace and her whimpers were getting louder.

Fearful, the dancer began shaking Christine's shoulders, exclaiming for her to wake. At last, the spell broke and the soprano started up. "A dream," she murmured, rubbing the sand from her eyes.

Meg gazed down at her worried. "Was he there?"

"Yes and no," Christine responded and let out a loud yawn. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

Christine smiled softly. "On the bright side, I wasn't in it deep."

"Yeah." And Meg laughed.

Glancing over at the bags, Christine asked, "Do you need help?"

Meg said, "Naah. Try to get some more rest. I'll be nearby."

Christine nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Meg went back into the kitchen and started to unload the groceries as the phone began ringing. She ran over and grabbed the handset. "Hello?" she whispered.

"Hi is Christine there?" It was Raoul.

"Um, sorry. She's taking a nap right now, can I take a message?"

"Oh," he sounded disappointed. "No, no. I'll call back later Meg. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's peachy," she answered in what she hoped was cheerful. "Bye Raoul."

"Bye Meg."

Hanging up, Meg whirled around and stopped in her tracks to see Christine in front of her. Her face was crumpled and near tears.

"It was him again?" she choked.

Meg assented silently. Christine shook her head, trying to keep the tremors from spilling. "He must think I hate him."

"No he doesn't! Otherwise he wouldn't continue to call," Meg pointed out, hoping to bring a smile.

"I haven't spoken to him in what three days? Meg… I don't know what to do anymore. This thing with Erik is taking my strength. I want to talk to him, to tell him everything, but what if Erik hears? What if he hurts him? I can't have that! I don't want anything to happen to Raoul. I-I love him…"

The blonde startled her with a high-pitch squeal. "I KNEW it!"

"Meg!"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Excited."

"I'm so messed up!"

The separation was killing Christine, it was plainly obvious, and she wanted nothing more than to run into his arms for shelter. But at what expense? She would be risking Erik's jealous wrath and who knew what he would do to poor Raoul. She needed him, though at the same time, she knew it would be too dangerous, possibly for both of them.

But…

"Meg?" she asked. "Could you do me a favor and call Raoul and tell him I'm on my way over to his place? I can't take this much longer and I think my sanity would be intact if I spend time with him."

"Are you sure?" her friend questioned carefully.

"Completely. I won't tell him what went on or anything. I just want to be with him. Ghost or no ghost. I want to be with my boyfriend."

xxXXxx

Luckily, the couple met no ghostly temper. Raoul was happy to be around her and the argument from before was forgotten. At least, to him it was. Christine would never be able to forget it. She was in a better mood by the time Raoul left her at her apartment and she wasn't bothered by any dreams or visions. Thoughts of Raoul and what their future may bring kept her from falling into the darkness.

She hadn't told him of her feelings yet, she was saving it for the Masquerade, which was around the corner. The last performance of _Faust _had concluded a week prior and had been a big cry-fest for everyone involved. This meant that Christine would have to leave soon… that's what **they** thought.

The soprano didn't even tell Meg about Raoul's proposition, wanting to surprise her and the rest of cast and crew on Halloween. The only person she had told was Heather, who was both thrilled and sad for her. It meant Christine wouldn't return home and they wouldn't be roommates. Though in her own way, Heather passed it off with a, "Now I have a reason to go to Paris!"

Her good friend was happy to know that she was in love with the Frenchie and wished her the very best.

"Don't let him get away," Heather advised and Christine was taking that to heart. No way would she let Raoul leave or her from him.

Now, all that remained was to find a costume to wear.

Meg had settled on being a Priestess. Her dress was dark violet velvet, almost black, and a sparkling midnight mask with rhinestones circling the eye and tied around her head.

This would be Christine's first Masquerade and she had no clue what to go as. Every suggestion Meg had offered were turned down until she found the perfect outfit and automatically bought it without telling Christine. She showed it to her and was love at first sight.

This was going to be one evening she would never forget.

xxXXxx

"Meg! Hurry up! Raoul's going to be here any second!" Christine yelled.

"I'm almost done!" Meg cried back from behind the bathroom door.

She shook her head, laughing softly. Christine smoothed out her outfit, smiling to herself. Formed accordingly to her figure was a pristine white domino set with a sleek velvet ebony mask. Meg told her when she first tried it on that she looked like a virgin sacrifice for some pagan ritual. Christine had laughed outright at the comment and became partial to the idea. It was Halloween after all so why not?

There was a knock and Christine quickly headed over to answer it.

"Hey… Zorro."

In the doorway, stood Raoul, dressed like the elusive fox completed with the cape, sword, and a fedora on top of his head.

Coming from behind, Meg looked over Christine's shoulder and chuckled. "Is that sword real?"

He patted the sheathed rapier at his side, grinning. "I wish. I borrowed it from the prop room."

The girls exchanged looks and giggled. Raoul clicked his tongue at them in a scolding manner. "I didn't steal it you crazies. It's my theatre and besides, if I return it with no damage I'm safe from the costume Nazi."

"Whatever." The blonde snorted.

"And who are you suppose to be?" he asked the dancer.

She smirked. "A Priestess. The make-up around the eyes was a last minute idea to have them appear to be sunk in."

"With the mask on no one would know," Christine pointed out.

She shrugged. "At midnight when they come off I need something to look the part. So are we going to stick around in the hall and chat? We have a party to go!"

xxXXxx

It was a quarter of eight by the time they arrived. The grand entrance was crowded with the many invited patrons and cast and the DJ.

Christine spotted Jamie and Stacey off to the side, near the refreshments. Specifically, the spiked punch bowl.

Turning to Raoul, Christine said, "Meg and I will be right back. I see Stace and Jamie."

He nodded. "Okay. Promise me a dance?"

"Of course!" she laughed, playfully hitting his arm. Grabbing Meg's hand, they hurried over to their friends. Jamie was Princess Leila and Stacey was one of the Playboy bunnies.

"'bout time you tow showed up. We were afraid you wouldn't come," Stacey teased.

"Nice outfit," Meg commented. "But shouldn't you have dressed up as somebody else for Halloween, Stacey?"

"Cute Garrison."

Christine admired Jamie's dress. It was the white gown from Episode IV, buns on the side of her head and all. "I didn't know you were a _Star Wars_ fan."

Jamie huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm not. It's my mother's."

Stacey shook her head sympathetically. "Mrs. Jameson wasn't too keen with her being my partner bunny. Though, I think she makes a good Leila. I told Jamie a lot of guys were going to think she's hot in it."

"To a sci-fi nerd," Jamie grumbled.

Stacey smirked. "Dawson, saw your boyfriend. Nice by the way."

"Dashing, huh?" Christine chuckled.

"Totally. Wish he's with me."

"Don't worry Stacey. I'm sure the right guy for you is around," Meg told her. "I thought I saw Hugh Hefner somewhere."

"You're full of jokes tonight aren't you?"

Meg fought to keep a straight face. "Maybe."

"Well, at least Hefner is rich. I could bypass the age thing."

"Ah, excuse me ladies," Raoul interjected, emerging from a conversation with some associates. Sneaking an arm around Christine's waist, he lovingly smiled down at her. "I'm stealing this one for a dance."

Without giving her a chance to speak, Raoul was pulling her out to the floor. Wrapping their arms' around the other, they swayed to the beat of a slow song.

Meg sighed happily. "Don't they look cute together?"

Stacey nodded. "She's lucky. You can't find a good, honest man nowadays."

"Ye-ah. Sorry girls, but I see John from lights. See ya!" Meg moved away with a grin on her face. Stacey groaned and turned to say something to Jamie to find her friend already at the arm of one of the straight male dancers.

"I better find a man before the night's over," Stacey mumbled.

Christine saw poor Stacey and sighed. "Raoul, I think you should ask her to dance. Stacey looks so lonely."

He pretended to contemplate it while the petite brunette nudged him. "Raoul!"

He smirked deviously. "So my choices are a very sexy bunny or a very sexy and gorgeous Angel already in my arms. Hard to choose."

"You." She wrinkled her nose as he laughed. "If you like, I will, only because she's your friend and you're my girlfriend. But you have to give me a kiss to seal the deal."

"A kiss? Oh all right," she said, teasing, placing a chaste one on his mouth. "Deal."

Before Raoul could get a word out, a hand clamped on his shoulder. Christine turned pale as thoughts of Erik came falling on top of her. Of all places and moments, she had almost forgotten her dilemma with Raoul near. But to her chagrin, her worries got the best of her when it was only Raoul's brother.

"Raoul!" Phillip greeted, hugging his older brother. "Almost didn't recognize you until I saw the sword. Always the hero."

Raoul laughed and returned the friendly gesture. "Phil, I want you to meet somebody. This is my girlfriend and latest leading lady, Christine Dawson."

"It's a delight to finally meet you, Mlle Dawson," Phillip said, taking Christine's hand and planted a light kiss on her knuckles. She blushed deeply and murmured her own salutations.

Phillip was an inch taller than Raoul with a darker shade of sandy-brown. Amiable green eyes gazed at her with a charming smile and he was handsome as his brother, Poindexter glasses and all. If Christine hadn't known, she would have thought Phillip was the oldest from the mature and intellectual airs around him. That and the lack of a costume. No doubt Raoul was the partier one of the two.

"Hey, Phil, you do know this is a Masquerade party, right?" the oldest de Chagny teased.

The youngest sheepishly shrugged. "Yeah but I wasn't the one to dress up in anything crazy. That and I have a business dinner to go to later for Dad."

"Ah, c'mon Phil!" Raoul hit his back. "Join the party! Stay for a while."

"Maybe." Phillip looked at Christine. "I saw your last performance and you were marvelous. I can see why Raoul wanted you here."

"Thank you. I'm glad I did sing at the Garnier. It was my mother's dream to come here and I'm doing it for her."

He nodded. "I hope you intend to stay for another season. I heard plenty of praises from the patrons and it seems you might be able to surpass Signora Giovanni. Maria," he added quickly.

"We'll see," Christine replied, no hints slipping through. Raoul winked at her.

"And the Mlle Carter did another wonderful job in her dance. Raoul, I've been telling you she ought to be the Prima Ballerina and not what's her face."

"I've been thinking of a promotion for her. Adele was telling me how much improvement she's making and I see it for myself."

Phillip was happy to hear this. "Great! She's as graceful as a swan, is she not?"

Christine mustered in the giggles at Phillip de Chagny's description of her friend. Stacey graceful? Only when she wanted to be, which wasn't often.

"Say, you know, she's here," Raoul told him. "Over by the punch."

Phillip looked over to the direction, his cheeks burning. "I-I couldn't—"

"Nonsense! Go over and ask her," Raoul pushed his little brother towards the unaware dancer. Christine watched the fluster de Chagny approach Stacey and after a few brief seconds, Stacey was pulling him out to the floor.

"Phil has a crush on her since the moment I hired her," Raoul whispered in her ear. "He doesn't have much experience with women and was always intimidated by Stacey. I've been trying to help him loosen up whenever she's at any function, but I never had the luck. Must be my lucky charm at my side."

"Raoul," Christine breathed, locking eyes with him.

"Dance with me," he whispered huskily, drawing her closer, as another slow song started up.

Christine held him, her heart soaring. This had to be what being in love feels like, she mused. Anymore of her fears had vanished as Christine forgot everything about Erik. There was Raoul… only Raoul in her mind.

Away from the couple, Meg watched her good friend and boss dance and grinned. _This has done the trick. She looks so peaceful and for once I don't have to worry about her._

The blonde tightened her arms around John, as she too, got lost in the power of the music and dance.

Laying her dark head on Raoul's shoulder, Christine inhaled the musky scent of his cologne. There was nothing that could have match this moment. This was where she wanted to be, with him, in his arms. Lifting her face up, her lips curved upwards, her hazel eyes becoming lost in his ocean blues. In all of her life she dreamt of meeting her Prince Charming that nothing compared right now. Raoul was the man she loved, and whom she decided her future lay. If he hadn't asked her to stay, then she would have done so on her own. She wanted him to be her light, her love, and her mate. And all she had to do was the say the words…

"Hello M. de Chagny, Mlle Dawson."

Christine stiffened in Raoul's embrace, breaking apart from her hazy thoughts.

Standing beside them was Detective Kanye. It had been months since Christine had last seen the Iranian inspector, and it appeared not to be the last.

"Detective, good to see you again," Raoul spoke for the both of them, shaking his hand warmly. "Nice costume."

The dark-skinned man laughed. "Not very imaginative I'm afraid." He came as a 19th century gendarme, the long cape attached to the dark suit, and high cap on his head. "I honestly wasn't sure if I was able to attend, but after seeing _Faust_, I knew I needed to find some excuse to leave work early to say my congratulations to the both of you. Mlle Dawson, you were splendid as Marguerite. I hope that despite everything you plan on staying in Paris longer."

"As a matter of fact, Detective, yes I am," Christine replied. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"I know we met under some terrible circumstances, but let me be the first to say, you're no longer considered a suspect in the threatening or death of Catarina Giovanni," Kanye said to her. "So please don't think I'm here just to watch you. As you must know, this hasn't been the first unsolved case concerning the Garnier and I doubt it will be the last."

Christine nodded, not sure what else to say. Raoul was grim and anger dotted in his irises. "I only hope that someday the truth would be known."

"As do I M. de Chagny. But for now, I guess, we have to settle it was the Phantom's doing, heh?" And the detective laughed deeply.

Raoul laughed as well much to Christine's unease. How could the both of them make light of it? This wasn't a joking matter at all.

_But they don't know his limits like you, _a voice whispered in the back of her head and she shuddered.

Kanye noticed her shiver and commented, "Are you cold mademoiselle?"

"A little," she replied quietly. Putting a gentle hand on Raoul's arm, she looked up at him. "I'll be right back."

Raoul made a nod, confused as she walked away. Kanye watched the exchange and frowned. "Is she like this all the time?"

"No," Raoul heard himself say. Turning to face the detective, Raoul continued. "Detective Kanye, may I speak with you in private for a few minutes? I don't know if you might find this important."

Seeing the distress on the young man's disposition, Kanye gave his consent as Raoul began to lead him away from the party. Walking behind, Kanye shifted his dark eyes around and froze momentarily.

A man in a crimson garb stood a good hundred feet away, his skull mask glaring at him with malice. In a wink of an eye, the man was gone, leaving the good detective with chills down his spine.

xxXXxx

Christine had gone outside for some fresh air, the therapeutic coolness doing its magic as she felt her nauseous past. Once she was fine, she went back inside to look for Raoul. Both he and Detective Kanye were missing, though she wasn't sure if it were a good or bad sign. Thankfully, she found Meg and scurried over.

"Hey, where's your date?" the blonde teased. "Judging from the heated expressions, I thought you two had left the party early."

"Fat chance. Detective Kanye's here."

Meg's jaw dropped. "He is? Well, I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Probably wanted to have some fun or something."

"Raoul's gone too. You don't think he's going to tell him about the dressing room escapade?" Christine felt the panic beginning to bubble.

The dancer saw the alarm on her friend's face and tried to allay her. "They're probably going over some details that he might have missed. Christine, it's all right. You need to get a hang of yourself."

She took a deep breath. "I know I know. I just can't help but feel something's going to happen."

"Nothing is. We're in a room chunk full of people, hundreds of witnesses. No idiot will be willing to do anything illegal. Now, this is a ball and it means go out and be crazy. Everyone else is dancing so look for a partner."

"Who?" Christine asked with no interest.

"Um…" Meg gazed around and gasped. "That guy! He's looking over here!"

Christine looked in her direction and only saw a quick flash of red. "I don't see any—"

"You're impossible. Go!" And Meg shoved her into a crowd of people.

Nearly tripping, Christine gathered her balance and muttered curses at her friend. Peering through her mask, she only saw many disguised façades and wasn't sure where to go or what to do. Looking behind her shoulder, Meg was nowhere in sight. _Most likely dancing with some guy_, she thought begrudgingly.

She caught Stacey but she was still wrapped up with Raoul's brother. The de Chagny had appeared to really loosen up after Christine and Raoul spoke to him—his tie was undone, his hair all mussed, and his thick-rimmed glasses were tilted sideways on his face. Philip was having the ball of his life!

Sighing, Christine turned around and her face slammed into muscle and cloth. "I'm sorry I—" She looked up and stopped. If it were possible, Christine's countenance grew redder than the man before her.

He was literally all in red, a deep scarlet hue, with broad, ruffled sleeves at the shoulder, a puffy velvet crimson cravat at his throat. His pants were bright red as well, molding to his legs and laced up black boots. A shiny, golden skull necklace laid proud on his chest, and further up (as she gulped) he had a skeletal mask covering his entire visage, leaving only an opening for two green eyes staring out and lips. And on top of his head was a large, boisterous feather burgundy hat.

Christine realized she was gaping and blushed profusely for her behavior. The revealed mouth curved into a haughty smirk as the man bowed reverently at her.

"An Angel has no need to apologize to an unworthy scoundrel, such as myself, and to even grace with such beauty is a sin," he purred, his voice that of liquid chocolate, rich and warm. "Allow me to ask for forgiveness…"

Christine could barely say a word, let alone come up with a conscious thought, as he took up her small hand and delicately kissed the skin of her knuckles. His lips hovered over her, his eyes blazing with intensity that Christine felt her knees buckle.

"And a dance?" he kindly offered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her mouth opened with no sounds produced as Christine continued to boldly stare at the stranger. Her silence brought a twitch of a grin upon his lips as he proceeded to take her to the dance floor.

Whatever control she had, fled once the music picked up with a slow, seductive tune and the man gently brought her closer to his tall frame, so close that she could hear a heartbeat…

_Wait…_

The thought went unfinished as the mysterious partner suddenly dipped her and brought back up, knocking the wind from her. With deft skill, his feet carried them through the rhythm as the tempo quickened into a fast pace.

Around and around they went, Christine could see the world and the guests fly past her, and she too, caught up in the whirlwind of the dance, forgot where she was and who she was as she reached for him desperately, to feel the contact of his body as the flame within awoke with a ferocity that made her swoon.

The dizzying intoxication of the two feverish bodies were now pressing intimately into the other, in hopes to quench the burning fire that was robbing the senses; enticing the sweet innocent with thoughts that would make a nun blush. She did not know him, yet her body was responding with the ardor of a long-waited lover and strangely enough, she longed to feel his touch, to feel his kiss as the powerful need consumed her. She was not wanton but whoever this man was, was forcing her to forget her morals through a dance, in the middle of a crowd.

Her lids drooped, her mouth parted as a low moan escaped. A triumphant gleam past through his countenance before the song came to an abrupt end. Still caught up in the reverie, Christine vaguely noticed his exit as his coaxing words echoed, "_Until later ma petite_."

xxXXxx

Christine remained in her spell, until Raoul brought her back with a touch on her shoulder.

Meg and Stacey laughed at the startled brunette. "We were trying to snap her out of it since that dance with Mister Hotsy in Red," Stacey informed Raoul.

"What dance? And with whom?" he asked, glancing from her to Meg.

"Don't ask me," Meg told him. "Where were you?"

"Talking some business," Raoul responded, not wanting to go on about his doings. He had told Detective Kanye of what Christine tried to tell him and what she claimed had taken place in the secret passage of Christine Daae's dressing room. He felt awful for betraying her, but he reminded himself it was for the best for him and for her. Raoul could only hope that she would understand his intentions.

"Weren't you supposed to make some speech at midnight?" Phillip slurred, wrapping his arm around Stacey. The girl giggled and snuggled closer to him. "Ain't he cute?" she mouthed to Meg.

"Yes! Oh, come on Christine!" Raoul took her hand and led her to the main staircase.

The music's volume ceased and the chatter among the guests lowered to a murmur as the owner stood at the top, clearing his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Raoul announced. "Thank you all for coming to this annual Masquerade party on this terrific Halloween evening. As you all know, we had some troubles before this season. It was a hard and powerful affect on everyone at the news of Catarina Giovanni's death and the later suicide of Joseph Brolin. But together, we all came out just as strong and were able to pull off a great performance with newcomer, Christine Dawson!"

At this, applause broke out. Christine standing below the stairs smiled and nodded to a few cheers and whistles.

"And I am also proud to tell you, that Mlle Dawson has agreed to continue her work here at the l'Opera Garnier as our new diva!"

More thunderous applause erupted and from afar, Christine saw her three friends screaming and jumping for joy. She laughed out loud and waved to a few people who were calling her name. _So this is how being a star feels like_, she wondered.

"Congratulations Mademoiselle."

Christine looked up, her breath caught in her throat, as her mysterious man magically appeared before her.

"T-thank you," she squeaked, her cheeks flushing in remembrance of their dance.

From behind, Raoul was telling everyone the time to remove their masks was approaching as a countdown started.

_Five…_

"You are so beautiful when you blush," the man said. "It's been too long since the last I held you in my arms."

_Four…_

Christine, surprisingly, gazed at him; his lips quirking as the smoky glaze in his eyes darkened to a golden hue.

_Three…_

He held up a finger to his lips as her heart raced with trepidation. No_…_

_Two…_

Her mouth started to open—

_One…_

His mask flew off, revealing the twisted façade that she had seen in her dreams. Christine screamed as the lights plunged into darkness.

TBC…


	18. Chp 17: Down Once More

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm sure you can guess what's going to happen in here and the next one. For suspenseful purposes I added another room to Erik's lair. The idea of it I got from a movie, which I won't say until the next chapter, otherwise it would give it away. One more chapter left plus Epilogue. I can't believe this is finally over! Thank you all for the kind words and Halley for doing a fabulous job. Please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 17- Down Once More**

The reverberated cry from Christine shook Raoul to his very core. The hard pounding of his heart drummed in his eardrums and a foreign swelling of doom and despair increased tenfold even before the lights returned, revealing the disappearance of the young soprano.

It all had happened in slow motion.

The hundred thousand masks were floating to the ground; the resounding ring of applauding hands in the theatre—the stun silence by a bewitching scream of horror and darkness sweeping over. The tiding gaiety ended in sudden death as Christine Dawson was no longer present among the invitees. Fear; a vague meaning of emotion that hardly can be considered, except by those entangled in an impending hopelessness that life would be over had possessed Raoul de Chagny, choking the air out of him. She was gone. By a thousand spectators, she was gone without a trace.

"No…" he gasped his voice thick and heavy. "No…"

His feet were moving, he was no longer in control, and before he realized it, Raoul had engulfed himself with the frenzy crowd, searching desperately for the one maybe woman he had ever cared for. _She has to be here! She has to be here!_ His mind repeated. But every face surrounding him was not her. Not her. Not her.

Then in a flash, Raoul had seen a man near her-- a man in the deepest red seen, deep and dark as blood, a maddening skull face and the chain of gold around his neck. He had returned. _The Red Death had returned_.

He saw him before, he knew him from somewhere, but where? And why did the quick recollection of such a man lunge him into fury and loathing? And why in his heart of hearts did he feel that Christine was in terrible danger?

The calm of the storm had come by the sight of Adele Garrison and her daughter. Raoul rushed over to them, anxiety riding high as ever, as he cried out for Christine.

"He has her!" Adele hissed, her gray eyes growing large. "He has taken her again! You must save her, M. de Chagny!"

"Who?" Raoul barked, grabbing the older woman's shoulders. "Who has Christine!"

"The Phantom. A man once known as Erik," Adele said, her usual controlled voice trembled. "He has her. Lord help us all."

"What?" Raoul exclaimed in disbelief, looking to Meg for confirmation. Tears glazed over her blue eyes as she nodded.

"It's true, Raoul. You have to believe us when we tell you that the Phantom has Christine. He's real. Real as you and me. And we got to rescue her!"

"This isn't possible," he stumbled. "The Phantom—"

"Is **real**," Adele finished for him. "And if you would have listened to Christine in the first place none of this would have happened."

"Are you implying--?"

"Of course I am! Have you known me long enough that I don't joke around? Christine is the reincarnation of your great-great grandmother, the Phantom's lover. He wants her to be with him and we're wasting time!" Adele shouted.

Raoul took a staggering step back, his jaw dropping. "Holy shit…"

Detective Kanye came running over, a firm authority set in his rigid countenance. "Monsieur, we need to get everyone to calm down. I called my superiors—"

"It won't be necessary," Adele coldly interrupted. "No mortal weapon or law can stop the supernatural being. Only a good brave soul can help Christine Dawson now."

"Madame, what do you mean?" Kanye asked.

"The Phantom!" Raoul erupted. "He has Christine! She was telling the truth. She was telling the truth and I didn't believe her."

Kanye stared hard at the young man, his brow rising high to the ceiling. "You're sure?"

"From what Adele has told me, yes," Raoul stated simply, anger edging his tone. "I am a fool."

"You are if you keep standing here," Adele chastised him. "Monsieur, if you love her, you will go after them and bring her back. I'm afraid his power might be too much for her to handle and if she has fainted… God only knows what could be happening."

The look on Meg's face was enough for him to make up his mind. The explanation could wait for the time being once Christine was back with him, where she belonged. And until then Raoul would have to accept Adele's words. He loved Christine more than life itself and he would do anything to assure her safety, no matter the consequence. Not even the powers of Hell could stop him.

"I think I might know where to go," Raoul told them. "If you say she's the reincarnation of my great-great grandmother, then there's only one path he could have taken."

"You cannot be serious!" Kanye rebuked. "You're chasing a ghost!"

"Whatever it is, it has Christine and I'm going after her," Raoul affirmed in a no argumentative tone. _I can't lose her._

Kanye huffed. "Well, I can't have you wandering off by yourself without back-up. I'm going to."

Raoul grinned, though there was no trace of amusement. "Thank you."

"Me too," added Meg, only to be hit by her mother. "Ow! Maman!"

"No Megara," Adele scolded. "I will not have you go down to his lair, if it's even there. We'll stay here in case they need us."

"I'm with your mother," Raoul told Meg. "I'll find her. I promise."

"Bring her home," Meg whispered as the men disappeared into the direction of Christine Daae's dressing room. "Maman, do you think she's all right? Do you think he would even let her go?"

Adele sighed. "I don't know Meg. But M. de Chagny is a smart man and he knows the stories. He knows to keep his hand at the level of his eyes."

xxXXxx

The mirror was sealed off by the time Raoul and Kanye arrived. The former ran to it, groping the edges, looking for a weak spot or anything to open it. After struggling for a few minutes, he slammed his forehead against the glass, cursing profoundly.

"The bastard knew," Raoul glowered. "He goddamn knew we would follow!"

"Monsieur, it's not the time to beat yourself up. You said there was a secret passageway behind this mirror?"

"Yes."

"Then…" The dark-skinned man walked around the room, looking for anything they might serve his need and cried, "Aha!" Underneath the dusty settee was a flashlight. "This might help."

Raoul backed away as he came swinging over, smashing the glass. Over and over, Kanye pounded the head of the flashlight until the glass gave in and shattered into pieces around him. He tossed the flashlight to the young man, Kanye demanded, "Check to see if it works."

Raoul flicked the switch as a faint, but steady beam appeared. Pleased, Raoul pointed onward. "Let's go."

Kanye took the first step into the walkway and gagged at the mildew scent. "It's strong but we'll get use to it," Raoul told him as he led down the direction he had found Christine prior. "If she had seen him here, then his home must be in that direction as well."

"Okay then what?" The skeptical detective inquired.

"If the stories are true, which I'm beginning to suspect, then we have to go down to the fifth cellar."

"Down?" he echoed and shrugged as the owner took the lead.

Raoul waved the light as he walked, frowning as an unusual déjà vu swept over him. For some odd reason, he thought about his strange dreams from his boyhood. Could it even be possible that he had experienced some sort of past life as a child?

Without thinking, Raoul dropped to his hands and knees, scraping the dirt and gravel to the side, exposing an iron ring. Taking hold, he grunted as the trap door lifted.

Kanye observed with keen interest. "How did you know to do that?"

"I didn't," Raoul answered truthfully. "But, Detective, will this sound strange to you if I were to say I've done this before?"

"I would have to say this whole thing is fucked up."

Raoul smirked, handing the flashlight to him so he could jump down. Kanye followed suit, landing disgracefully on his rear. "For the love of Allah—" he began.

"Shh!" Raoul looked at him. "We don't want him to know we're on his trail."

The detective glared at him as he dusted off his pants. "My wife's going to kill me."

"She won't if this Phantom or Erik is true to what is told. If that's the case, well, Detective ever heard of the saying, 'keep your hand at the level of your eyes'?"

"No." Raoul made a fist and raised it. "You better."

"Sir, I may have investigated most of the cases surrounding your theatre, but I have not quite acquainted myself with the whole lore."

"Here's a quick lesson: the Punjab lasso is his choice of weapon. One sudden grip around the throat and you're dead. With your hand raised, you have a better chance in surviving. Now, c'mon. We can't afford anymore time."

They moved further in their path and to Raoul's surprise, came to a staircase that had seen better days. "That's our ticket."

Not waiting for his partner to say anything, Raoul proceeded to walk cautiously down, his mind set on his dear, beloved Christine. Guilt panged him as he had pushed her away when she attempted to explain the truth. What sort of man did that make him? He prayed it wasn't too late for her to accept his sincerest apologies.

"Don't worry, Monsieur. We'll get her," Kanye murmured, noticing the tenseness in Raoul's shoulders. "It wasn't your fault."

"It feels like it is," he replied curtly. They climbed two flights down, Raoul mentally numbering their position at the third cellar. The mildew combined with rotten, decaying wood and filth was stinging his nose and eyes, but with all of his might, Raoul forced to keep focus on his mission. He needed to keep a sharp head on his shoulders and quick eyes if they were to make this out. They soon reached a dead-end where a medium-sized hole was built through the wall.

Raoul paused, a rush of apprehension flooding him. "We shouldn't go through there. I don't know where it leads, but someplace I rather not be."

Kanye gave him a side-angled glance. "You're starting to worry me de Chagny."

"Same here. But I had dreams about this as a kid. I dreamt of darkness where there was no escape and water suffocating me. That way leads to death, monsieur, and we're no use to Christine if we're dead."

"Then what do you propose?"

"He lives in a house on a lake. And the lake starts here in the third cellar, but I think it might be best if we take the stairs to the fifth cellar and then find the house that way."

"And what if we're too late? We already wasted enough time already. We should stay here and before you object, let me remind you, I am an officer of the law and I am well armed. Now, if you remember using that path, then I strongly recommend we do so."

Kanye pushed past Raoul and instructed him to stay close. Getting on his knees, the detective began to crawl down the narrow path with Raoul a few feet behind, the flashlight in his hand, lighting their way until the bulb couldn't hold on much longer and died.

"Ah damnit!"

"Leave it," Kanye ordered. "I think I see a light up ahead. Not far now."

Groaning, Raoul did and squinted his eyes to see he was right. Kanye shuffled a bit further and with a cry disappeared in front of the owner's eyes.

xxXXxx

She had fainted dead away in his arms.

Imprinted in her mind was that twisted face she had feared as a little girl. Even in the recesses of her unconsciousness she saw him, saw Erik. God would be too cruel to let her forget that visage.

He was exactly what he appeared to be in her dream. The stench of rotten eggs and mothballs—the scent of death—was everywhere, suffocating and stinging the air in her lungs. She felt like vomiting and she vaguely wondered if she did on the ghoulish creature. Not that would make a difference.

His very face was a corpse, so hideous and so disgusting. His eyes were severe and sunken in, his lips huge and misshaped, and his breath reeked of the putrid odor about him. How in the world had she found him so desirable? So attractive? He was bones, literally skeletal, with no muscle on his body. She could feel the clammy skin against her chest as he carried her to his home.

_My home_, she thought with bitter sarcasm.

And like her dream, she had fought him, punched him, cursed him, and he did not relent. He did not speak to her, which had struck her oddly upsetting. The silence was madness. Only then did he begin to hum. It was sorrowful in his deep voice and beautiful at the same time. It was then Christine was returned to the sweet blackness, her memory fading into nothing.

xxXXxx

"Kanye!" Raoul screamed, scrambling over. Looking over, he found the detective sprawled on the ground, moaning, but was fine and signaled for the young man to come down once he stood up.

Scanning the six-cornered room they had found themselves in, Raoul felt a shiver snaked down his spine by the sight of so many mirrors. "Detective Kanye… this isn't right."

"I'll say. Look here." He bent down to pick up a cord. "Can you make out what this is?"

One glance confirmed Raoul's worst fears as he backed away. "The Punjab lasso…"

Startled, Kanye threw it away quickly. "I think I'm starting to believe now."

"We're in the torture chamber," Raoul panted. "I read about this room in my great-great grandmother's diary. This is where my great-great grandfather and a friend almost died when trying to save her. She mentioned a secret in which to escape—"

Raoul headed over to the mirror in front of him and began touching, pulling, and pushing for the secret door that led out. Kanye watched what he was doing and mimicked him over on his side.

"If this is a torture chamber, I take it we're in his home, right?" Kanye asked over his shoulder.

"Yes but we should refrain from speaking. If he should hear us then when the light is exposed in here we would die from the heat or lasso."

"Christ. He is one whacked out ghost."

Raoul made no comment as he continued his work. He was astonished of how much he knew his way around the passages and the path once known as the Communists' Road. Not all of this had to be taken from his great-great grandmother's diary; after all, she wouldn't have experienced the horrors of nearly drowning in darkness. This knowledge had to be derived from another source, but what?

Remembering the past life Christine referred to, Raoul briefly wondered if he too had one at one point. He didn't believe in reincarnation, just like he didn't believe in ghosts, but now he was more than likely to believe in the existence of both and perhaps Santa.

Then again, the whole discussion about reincarnations could be getting into his head making him think he was. He had to retain some sort of rational sense if he wanted to make it out sane. The diary had been very detailed in everything, especially her secrets and those of the unnamed lover, the one called Erik.

_What did she ever see in him? _He thought as a wry chuckle escaped. Somehow this whole thing seemed hilarious. Here is a ghost thinking _his _girlfriend was the ghost's lover. There was no resemblance in appearance. Christine Daae was blonde, blue-eyed and this Christine was a curly chocolate and brown eye. Sure both could sing like angels, but that didn't make them alike. If Kanye weren't around, Raoul would have burst out into laughter over this ordeal. This was beyond insane and here he was taking part in it. Ghosts were stories to tell children and the Phantom was a story to bring in the tourism. Yet the story became reality and he was fighting to save the woman he loved. Just like his great-great grandfather did nearly a century ago.

_If he lays one transparent hand on her, I'll force him to cross over_, he thought with solemnity. _I don't care who he is or what he can do. Christine's **my** girlfriend and if he touches her with harm then he'll have to answer to me._

_But you know he won't harm her, _whispered a voice. _You know he will never touch his angel like the way you've did._

Frowning and perturbed, Raoul turned to Kanye. "What did you say Detective?"

Kanye glanced at him. "I didn't say anything."

Raoul cocked his head and muttered, "Never mind." _You know you never hurt her and everyone knows you're not that type. _

_That's what **he **thought…_

Becoming mad, Raoul whirled around and glared at the other man. "Don't you dare accuse me of hurting Christine!"

This time Kanye gave him a worried look. "Monsieur, I don't know what you are talking about, but I assure you I never accused you of anything. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt Mlle Dawson."

The officer's statement soothed him and he felt guilty for accusing him of such things. Kanye smiled and waved him off. "It's nerves, my friend. I did not take it to heart."

Raoul nodded but wanted to add more, but decided against it. Maybe his irrational fears were putting ideas into his head. Doesn't that normally occur in dire situations? Then a despairing notion came to light…

What if Christine loved this Erik? She didn't tell him about the admirer and he never gave her reason to doubt his fidelity.

_Yet, you pushed her away when she did try to explain, _came the accusation. _She probably wanted this. Perhaps this Erik is a better companion then you could ever be. At least he wouldn't be quick to shove her away when she needs comfort. Erik would have listened to her from the beginning._

_So could I_, he argued. _I was tired and tired people don't think clearly. It was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. She could have told me and I would have listened._

_But you didn't. And you wouldn't. Face it. She's better off with Erik. She will be happier with him than with you. You would make her miserable like before. You will only keep her because she damaged your pride and embarrassed you. He's taking what rightfully belongs to him. You shouldn't stop him. She belongs to Erik. This is her true home!_

"No!" Raoul half-whispered, half-sobbed. "Shut up! I love her and she loves me!"

_You know who you are. That's why you hate yourself so much. Rapist…_

"No I'm not!" he moaned, a bit loudly. Clapping his hands over his ears, Raoul violently shook his head. "I didn't rape her!"

_**He **did and **he **is you. There's no escape from the true destiny. You will hurt her, you will destroy her._

"I'm not him! I'm not like him! I'm—"

A stinging blow shot across his face. Raoul blinked for a few seconds before he could focus clearly. Shaking his head, he gazed up into the upset eyes of Kanye. "Wha-What happened?"

Kanye sighed. "You were going mad on me. And we can't have our covers blown. What made you so riled up anyhow?"

The young man stared at the floor, his face turning red from where he was slapped. "Ghosts from the past that won't rest."

The dark-skinned man nodded sympathetically and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right now?"

"Yeah I think so."

"Good. And I have some news that would you make feel better—I found the secret door."

Raoul perked up. Kanye grinned broadly. "My sentiments exactly. Now let's save the girl and get the bastard," he said, walking through into the next room.

xxXXxx

"_What will you decide on my dear? The scorpion to be my wife or the grasshopper who jumps mighty high!" Erik madly cried._

_Scorpion or grasshopper? Bride or death?_

"_Christine! Christine!" _

_It was Raoul! Oh sweet, loving Raoul!_

"_Choose!" Erik practically screamed. "Choose now or I'll choose for you and the whole building will be buried!"_

_A fast hand selects._

"_I have turned the scorpion Erik!"_

_The love-starved man suddenly morphed into a hysterical man of youth._

"_Raoul, please, try to understand! I love him—"_

"_No!" He jumped up, pounding a fist on a table. "You're mine Christine! Mine! You will not return to some monster!"_

"_But I promised him Raoul!" she screeched. "He needs me!"_

"_No I need you!"_

"_I'm not yours Raoul. I'm breaking our engagement, I'm sorry. But I cannot marry you." _

_Pulling off the diamond heirloom, she handed it to him. "I do not love you."_

_Heartbrokenly, he stared at the ring and then at her. "You did once." And a foreboding grin took over his features. "And you will again."_

_The pain… oh God the pain! _

_The heavy, swollen belly kicking pierced her soul as she screamed out. He was coming! The baby was coming!_

"Get out! Get out of me!" Christine sobbed, thrashing her petite body wildly. Her eyes squeezed so tight that tears shimmered on her lashes as she twisted and screamed. No matter what she couldn't seem to leave the hellish nightmare.

From a distance, he watched her. She may have broken his influence before, but now that she was finally here with him, she will not leave. She was his and he was hers.

"Soon _mon Ange_," he promised. "Soon they'll end and you'll come to Erik."

xxXXxx

The room they entered through had ended into another. One that Raoul did not recognize.

Their eyes were already grown used to the dark and luckily it enabled them to see the new area. Like the mirrored room, it had six corners, but no mirrors and no nooses were lying or hanging around to both men's relief. But it wasn't far from the torture room. This had to be another one of Erik's tricks but what?

Kanye muttered a string of phrases in another language, while Raoul searched for another door of some kind. Coming close to the west wall, he heard something. Something like someone crying… a female crying.

"Christine!" Raoul gasped, running over and pressing his ear into the cool stone. His eyes widened as another painful cry resonated. It was Christine! And she was behind there!

Frantically, he tore his nails into the surface, looking for a switch or something that would lead him to her. She needed him! Visualizing the Phantom in front of him, Raoul ripped and pried the rock, praying he wasn't too late for his love.

He was thrown roughly away, falling to the floor. He gawked at Kanye, his patience growing thinner at the man who came along. "What the Hell! She's there! I heard her!"

"And what? Go tearing through like a crazed fool and get yourself killed? You need to keep a cool head on your shoulders, boy, if you want to outsmart him."

"That… that _thing _is doing something to her and you're telling me to be cool?"

"Yes and good reason too. We need to find out what is going on before we go running in. Can you do that? Can you do that for her?"

Knowing he had little say in the matter, Raoul reluctantly agreed much to his heavy heart. She was right there, not far from his fingertips, and he was being held back. Standing up, he looked Kanye in the eye and coldly stated, "If anything happens to her, I'm going to report you."

"Spoken like a true goddamn boyfriend," Kanye kidded though all sense of humor fled once they had stepped through the dressing room mirror. Both quietly pressed against the wall to listen in on what was taking place.

Christine's cries were growing fainter, but her heart-broken words were unnoticed by the frantic lover.

"Untie me please! Untie me…"

Kanye gripped his tensed shoulder to help him relax. Helplessly, Raoul had no choice but to continue listening much to the beast inside roaring to break down the wall and kill the Phantom once and for all.

A new, chilling voice was picked up now.

"I'm sorry, my love, you had to go through that but those were only memories. Past memories from who you are but there's no need for them to be painful anymore. We will create new and wonderful memories together. You do not need to cry no more _mon coeur_."

"Go to Hell!" Her hoarse voice declared weakly.

"Christine, Christine." It sounded like he was shaking his head from the forlorn sound. "My Hell was here alone, waiting for you to return. Years passed as I walked through this theatre in hopes you will come back. And now you're here! We can be together again. Forever."

"Forever my ass," Raoul mumbled, earning an exasperated look from Kanye.

"Erik please…" Christine pleaded. "We can't…"

Raoul and Kanye jumped as something crashed into the wall. Both exchanged uneasy glances as the ghost's sweet temper was curved by her rejection.

"No! No do you hear me?" Erik wailed in dismay. "You still fight me, why Christine? Why! Don't you love your poor Erik?"

"I am _not _Christine Daae!" was the curt reply.

An inhuman sob echoed. "You must! We are each other's half! I'll show you!" A pause and then, "See! See? See the ring on my finger? I gave it to you and you gave it to me sealed with a kiss that you would return. You made a promise to Erik! I never took it off. Never."

Raoul winced from poor Erik's moan. He wasn't dealing with a lunatic but an obsessive love-deprived figure edging on madness. Though, from the sound of his anguish gasps the slip was made.

"I'm sorry Erik," Christine placated. "Really I am. But I am not the woman you once loved."

He didn't answer and as the seconds stretched, a low chuckle rose filled with loathing and despair.

"You love the boy." It was a downright accusation.

"Raoul—"

"You love the boy!" he interrupted, his voice thundering. "You love _him _and you tricked Erik. YOU TRICKED ERIK!"

His screeching made the men covered their ears. The situation was getting out of hand… and Raoul feared Erik would snap and harm Christine. But something unexpected happen.

"You _will _love me, Christine. Maybe not right away, but you would have the rest of eternity to love your poor beloved Erik. Do not fret my dear. The wedding mass was already chosen and now the requiem will have its chance."

TBC…


	19. Chp 18: Grasshopper or Scorpion?

A/N::sidles out to readers, shuffling feet nervously: Oh… hi… sorry for the _long _wait. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. I, uh, wrote this two times and I was bombarded with schoolwork. I spent about a week on a mousetrap car for Physics so please forgive me!

This is the last chapter… after this is an epilogue. I can't believe the story has come to an end. Thank you everyone for the kind support and encouraging reviews for this story. It was bit of a toughie to get through, but I'm glad to see this has reached its end. Thank you to both of my betas Megan and Halley for a terrific job in helping this story come out the way it did. Thanks girls!

The only thing to point out in this is that there's a bunch of flashbacks spanning out periods of time. I put ellipses at the end of the paragraphs that indicates that some time will past after the memory shown. Hopefully it's not too confusing and everyone can easily pick up at what point of time it's at.

And… since I added a new room to Erik's torture chamber, I gotten the idea from _Dracula 2000_ as you will see the influence in a second.

Thank you all and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 18- Grasshopper or Scorpion?**

The meaning of Erik's words automatically clicked in Raoul. Wide-eyed, he grabbed Kanye's sleeve. "He's going to kill her! He's going to kill her!"

"Hush! I know! Quiet or we'll be the ones in trouble," the detective said harshly. "Hurry, let's try and look for a mechanism that would lead us out of here."

Raoul nodded and furiously touched, pushed, and scanned for something. Kanye walked around, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary. He too, pushed on each wall and inwardly cursed when he couldn't hear what was going on. _We're not going to be late_, he told himself. _We'll get to her in time._

Kanye had to admit the boy had guts for doing this. It was evident that Raoul de Chagny really felt for Christine Dawson, possibly even loved her. The devotion was touching and reminded him of his younger days when he won over his wife. But never did he have to go to this extent for a girl, and he gave de Chagny points for it.

"Any luck?" the owner called.

"No." And both worked vigorously. Finally, the dark-skinned man found something that might be helpful. High up on the southern wall was a strangely looking chuck of rock in shape of a button of sort. Kanye couldn't reach it and neither could Raoul. But…

"Monsieur! I think I found our exit."

Raoul turned around to see the Iranian pull out his pistol, pointing it at the wall and fired. The bullet hit its target but didn't open the wall attached to.

Spikes pop out from the walls, missing the men by inches. They looked around, relaxing somewhat. Then a chilling low groan reached their unsuspecting ears and made them turn their heads. A spiked board came hurdling behind them, heading straight for Kanye.

Mortified, Raoul screamed out, "KANYE!"

The detective froze, not blinking as the sharp daggers pierced through him, coming out the other end. Blood gushed out, spraying the neighboring pikes and stone.

Breathing harsh, Raoul stared in horror at the impaled officer, tears stinging his eyes. "No!" he moaned, and went to rush over, only to stop as another groan echoed.

He rolled on the ground, his leg grazed by the spike, but not enough to cause severe damage. Hissing in pain, he clutched his thigh, and fell against the only spike-free wall—the one where he heard Christine's agonizing cries from.

"Holy shit," Raoul panted, shaking his head crazily. "No, no, no!"

The bulging eyed detective gaped at the young man, blood trickling down his lip, chest, and all over. He hadn't had the chance to move out of the way.

Raoul's upper torso heaved as he tried to breathe, only to scream out as a loud buzzing ruptured his hearing.

He slammed his hands against his head, yet it grew louder and unbearable. Raoul fell to his knees, his sight blurring and spinning, but the burning and ringing would not stop.

Silence and calmness followed shortly after.

xxXXxx

All was still and quiet.

He opened his eyes, flinching as his eardrums screamed his vision hazy and distorted. His head hung low, chin tuck into his throat, too tired to lift to see where he was. Then slowly, he began to regain some feeling in his body, starting from the tingling in his hands to the throbbing of his legs. He tried to move his arms and hands, biting his tongue as an acute jab shot through his body, his wrists raw and most likely bleeding from shackles bound to the underground wall.

Everything was sore, everything was dark, and Raoul wondered if he was in Hell.

A gentle, soft lullaby caressed his ears, lessening the pain. Raoul was too weak to look for the source and began to succumb to the comforting sounds. As blackness covered his blue eyes, he scarcely heard the cries and protests from a woman…

_He was but a young lad of eight years. A strapping gentleman, primly dressed and cleaned, walking alongside his governess by the sandy shores of the Swedish village his family were staying in for the summer. _

_He paused long enough to hear a girl's squeal of laughter and looked up to see a beautiful girl, no older than six, twirling in the wind, her curly golden locks and a bright red scarf spinning around her. A smile was brought to his face as he stared at the little pixie in her childish play. The soft breeze suddenly turned rapid and her scarf was ripped from her throat, flying towards the sea. _

_She cried out in despair, her feet running only to stop by the waters edge. Without thinking, he took off into the freezing sea, grabbing the prized possession of the girl's. Swimming maddeningly, he returned to shores, handing the scarf back to the dazzling angel, her crystal blue eyes glistening with awe and sincerity…._

_The rushing flow of icy, murky water. Air rapidly fleeting as the room was being flooded, a trick done by none other than Erik, her Angel of Music, the Voice that she claimed to have been visited. The fiend was real and had her in his clutches, doing Heaven knows what to the innocent girl he had so fallen in love with. _

_The Persian was shouting, though the words were barely registering as he saw the water level rise. Fear paralyzed him as the shivery water encased him. He would fail her. He would fail before he had the chance to rescue the fair Damsel in distress from the vicious villain. Such a fool. His end was coming; judgment was getting closer as he took the first gulps of the vile underground lake, his nose and eyes burning. All he could think of was her as darkness consumed him…_

_Consciousness was frequent, lasting a minute before falling back into the oblivion. A sweet sound cocooned him, urging him to wake and fight. His throat was sore, his eyes bloodshot yet he was alive. He had defeated death and all because of an angel singing, talking to him, and pleading for him to open his eyes._

_There she was, flushed and teary-eyed, but thankfully no harm from what he could see. She was a divinely martyr, an image of innocence in a torn wedding gown, and as she watched over him with content, there was a troubling sadness in her. One he could not identity…_

_Their wedding was quickly conducted in her room; for she would not leave, and despite her pleas for help to the senile priest, everything was kept silent for the poor dear was suffering from delusions after the dreadful encounter with her kidnapper. She was ill and he would take care of her. Now and forever…_

_Night has come. Once more he would have her, his darling wife, his loving songbird! He loved her, oh how he loved and cherished her! Their souls were bound according to the Lord and he'll prove to her once more he was the only man who would ever love her._

_Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!_

_Her wails and sobs were unnoticed by him; long ago he had assumed her rejections were of shyness and maidenly modesty. Her strong religious ties would make her feel wicked for her wifely duties, but he will prove she should have no shame in their love. For she was his! His! His! _

_Yet she called for his rival and as much as it pained him to hear, he assured himself the fiend's spell was still upon her and there was no cure from the wretched man's influence. If only he could free her…_

_The illness he had so believed in had finally taken over his Christine, her heart no longer fighting for the happiness she must have known with him. In her dying hour, she wept for him. For his misunderstanding, his confusion, and his madness that has took him. _

_He watched her die before his very own eyes. He watched the once youthful liveliness fade from her rosy cheeks and sparkling irises. He watched the warm, softness of her skin grow to cold white. Seeing her in death brought his sense back and he mourned for the life **he** had stolen. _

_That same night he locked himself away in his study. His grief was so powerful and his heart torn into pieces. He was a monster. A monster. He was no better than the man named Erik._

_He took his pistol and placed it in his mouth._

_The bang echoed throughout the household._

xxXXxx

Raoul screamed in agony.

Tears pricked Christine's eyes as she watched her love go through the same torture as she did. Looking at Erik, she glared at him in spite, her lips snarling. He was the one who claimed he loved her, yet he brought suffering to her and the ones she loved.

She had thought Raoul was dead when Erik brought him out from his torture room, but was relieved to find him alive as he regained consciousness. She knew he would come for her. He had to. She held onto hope that he would know where to go. Deep down, she knew he had to know of a path.

As Raoul cried out in pain, she squeezed her eyes and forced to look away. A tear trickled down her cheek and was wiped away by a cool, thin finger. She forced to open her eyes to look up at the pained expression of Erik's countenance.

"Don't cry, my love. I hate it when you cry."

"Then stop torturing him!" she cried, her tears falling.

He remained rigid and unfazed by her outburst. "Stop?" he echoed, briefly gazing at the boy. "As you wish." He walked over and raised a hand to slap him hard across the cheek. Christine yelled out but the blow silenced Raoul as his body went limp.

With a smug smirk, Erik raised his brow in Christine's direction, bowing mockingly. "I have done as you requested _ma petite_."

She bit her tongue, though that didn't quiet her. "If you can do that then you can let the both of us go. We won't bother you ever again."

Erik shook his head, the corpse's face twisted in a gruesome smile. "I'm afraid I cannot do that and you know it. Too long I've waited in this tomb and I will not give in so easily to your tears. We are bound, Christine, through a promise; a promise of which you made to Erik here in this very room. I remember very well of your tearful good-bye and the sweet, maidenly kiss upon my carcass forehead. Our tears flowed together when we parted but now we will have all of eternity to share our love."

"You're sick," she spat. "Completely out of your mind!" And with that, she struggled with her bonds as her back scratched against the rough surface on which she laid. "If you love me as you say do, then you will at least untie me!"

At this, Erik sadly dissented. "I may be not of the living, but Erik does have his memories of the last time. No. You will stay as you are until the time has come and your promise is fulfilled."

He took great strides over and tenderly caressed her curly tresses. "One time I could feel the silkiness and now I can't," he lamented, his tone taking on a faraway quality. "How I long to feel the warmth that was never in my grasp…" he continued his harangue, almost forgetting that another was among them.

Raoul's loud moan snapped Erik from his entranced ministration. His amber eyes flared and hardened as he whirled around to face the awaking owner.

His vision was still distorted but Raoul's retinas were able to focus clearly in certain areas. He could make out, a tall silhouette looming over him, two bright dots of fire glowering at him. At first, he was thinking he had died and this was Lucifer. Now as his mind was breaking away from the previous horrible images, Raoul realized who he was seeing was no Lucifer.

The Phantom of the Opera. A man once known as Erik.

His eyes bulged at the ominous ghost before him. This was the infamous spirit that had killed Cat, Brolin, and probably many others. This was the spirit of the man formerly loved by his ancestor. And this was the spirit who had kidnapped his Christine.

The intimidating specter took a step forward towards him. His disarrayed of yellow teeth bared in an ill grin as he lowered his death face to his. Raoul choked from the overriding stench and stretched his neck out away for air, finding none. His struggle only broadened the accursed man's grin.

"Alas you've awaken from your beauty sleep! Pray, how was it? I hope my choice of accommodating your weary body was comfortable."

He tossed his head back and laughed cruelly. "Not much to your liking? The next best would be the coffin, but that is Erik's bed!"

The living apparition found the remark amusing as he continued his chuckles much to Raoul's disgust. He pulled on his bondages, wincing from the pain shooting down his arms. His discomfort further Erik's mirth.

"I try to be a hospitable host. But you, _sir_, try my patience!" The address was spit with venom. "Why must you pursue Erik? What has Erik ever done to you? You claim to be honest, true to your word, a gentleman, if I recall, but you so _rudely _broke into my home. Not once but twice! You and that nosy daroga! How you tremble! You fear Erik, I can feel it. Yet it's your fault you make Erik break his promise.

"I hate to inflict pain though you, _sir_, leave me no choice! I know why you're here. You're going to save Christine from the intolerable monster. **My** Christine! She has chosen **me**! _Me_! The ring Erik has here was given to her, long ago, but she gave it back so she could return and wear it once more as _my wife_. The bride has wanted Erik. She has come willingly to Erik-- in her dreams and once on the Communists' Road. You stopped her before she went into my arms! She loves me!"

The outburst caused Raoul's head to snap up and looked hard at the Phantom. For the first time, he realized this wasn't an ordinary ghost found in the movies. He was very solid in appearance and much taller for comfort. And as Erik said, a gleaming golden ring shone on his skeletal finger. But that didn't excuse his entire countenance composed of lunacy and loathing, even though that was enough to convince him what Erik said couldn't be true.

Raoul knew Christine. She wouldn't "willingly" go to some ghost in the sake of love. Surely, this was a raving from this deluded psychotic ghost. The ring, however, only fueled this crazed belief. It couldn't be true.

Erik scowled when Raoul did not answer. "You do not believe Erik? Well, ask her yourself!"

He moved out of the way for him to finally see her. Raoul's eyes widened as he saw his girlfriend sprawled on top of a slab of hard granite; her hands were above her head in cuffs like him. Though he bet they weren't cruelly tight as his were. But nonetheless, seeing her so helplessly chained, Raoul flew into a rage.

The Phantom, nonchalantly, watched as the young man flailed and screamed all sorts of profanities at him. This would be expected of a lover. And both were the lovers of the darling singer before their eyes.

"Ah, 'tis true," the ghost drawled, his golden eyes glinting deviously. "Isn't that correct, my darling?"

He then turned to the soprano, her hazels filled with anger and disgust. She knew her actions were misinterpreted and any wrong doing on her part would cause Erik to lose his temper and potentially harm Raoul physically and mentally. She couldn't have it.

Christine turned her head so she had eye contact with her boyfriend. His ocean blue irises were pleading that what Erik said wasn't true, but she tried sending him a message that this was for both of their safety and hoped he would forgive her if they were to make it out.

No words were needed and Raoul de Chagny lowered his face. The response elicited a delighted contortion of the death's head as he laughed shrilly.

"Don't be so glum, _mon ami_," Erik said, emphasizing the friendly recognition with condescension. "Though, you now know what poor Erik had endured for so many years! Yes, the Angel has wanted me! And I cannot deny her yearnings no longer. She will belong to _me_, de Chagny. Mark my words. But I want you to experience forthwith the heartache this dark angel went through when you had the pleasure of leaving with her."

Erik's intention didn't fall on deaf ears and the young couple stared aghast at him.

Raoul's own eyes were blazing with a ferocity that would have dueled Erik's. His voice was cold as he gritted between his teeth, "She will _never _be yours! Christine Daae has been long dead!"

This led to an erupted roar from the Phantom. He lunged at the man, wrapping his very thinly fingers around his throat. Christine cried out but that didn't tear him away from his rival.

"Do not speak of **_her_**!" he snarled, squeezing harder. "For she does live! She calls for me and I am the only one who can hear her pleas! She wants to be set free to be with her dear Erik! She _promised!_"

Raoul sputtered but didn't falter, by no means wanting to gratify his weakness to his opponent. As hard he fought, he couldn't even deny the loss of oxygen rendering his coloring to purple. Erik's grip was surprisingly strong and to Raoul's horror, one of his digits had disappeared into his skin.

He gasped as he felt a sharp prod to his voice box. Erik's grim visage held his look as he smirked smugly.

"I have not completely lost my senses," the Phantom spat. "I may not be part of the mortal race with a working mind and organs, but I have been fortunate to understand my limitations and stretches in my existing form. For I can control whether or not I allow any part of myself to be solid or…" and he pushed a bit on the larynx. "Transparent."

His voice had dropped for only to Raoul hear, as he continued his taunting. "I can be invisible if I should please and that's how Erik knew Christine was coming. And it was how I traveled away from the theatre. I knew of your liaisons with _Signora Giovanni_. Such a waste of talent in a whore of a woman," he chuckled. "But your lover had tried to kill my songbird. Oh yes 'twas no 'accident'. There was no excuse for such matters to go unpunished."

With no warning, Erik pulled his hands out and away from Raoul. Staring disapprovingly at him, Erik clicked his tongue in chastising. "I know all I needed to know about you. If you cared so much a hair on her, then Signora Giovanni would have been gone long before I intervened. Pity from a man who claims honesty is one of his highest values. For at least I did what was needed to be done on Christine's behalf."

He spun on his heel and glided over to a table. Erik's hand grasped what was on top and turned.

A glittering dagger twirled around his finger, the object reflecting in his pupils. Erik took a step forward as Raoul instinctively coiled. "Pathetic," Erik whispered.

"STOP!"

Christine's voice pulled Erik's attention to her and quickly closed distance between them. "Yes?" he innocently inquired.

"No more!" she pleaded desperately. "Don't do this."

Her compassion was touching, but he couldn't be foiled again and not by the same woman. Instead, Erik chided her to be silent and cooed, "Erik will take care of everything, my sweet. It will be all right."

His quick dismissal of her didn't keep her quiet. "No Erik! Touch Raoul and I… I won't go to you willingly."

The boyfriend's groan filled the room, tugging at Christine's heart. She couldn't bear to watch Raoul die, nor could she allow the deadly game to continue.

It was now or never, even if meant she had to give up her own life. She would do that to save Raoul.

Erik studied her face as a hopeful twinge of his lips went up. "Y-you love me?" he asked in a whisper.

Christine nodded as she sobbed, "Yes! I always loved you! But you frightened me."

Precariously, he glanced at the knife and then to her, not knowing which master to yield to. Long last, he fixated on Christine, demanding, "You will come to me willingly if I do not harm the whelp?"

Again, she assented like a petulant child. "Yes Erik."

He lowered his face, as if to kiss her, but hissed, "Your words are useless. He will die, only then will you belong to Erik!"

"NO!" Christine shouted, mortified.

Erik drew back from her, gazing in forlorn. "It must be done, _mon ange_," he insisted as he shuffled over to the squirming owner.

Stopping inches away, Erik held the blade in front of his face, whisking the still air. Then, he brought the tip to the forehead, first caressing the skin as a would-be lover, trying to pacify the victim.

Raoul went stock rigid, biting his tongue drawing blood into his mouth. The rising of his chest was the proof for Erik to show he had the power over him.

The caressing then slid down his temple, grazing his cheek and the bridge of his nose. There Erik scratched the patch of skin, hitting the thick bone. Yet Raoul refused to make a sound as Christine wept for him.

"I could cut it off," Erik reasoned. "Perhaps your nose would take its place on my own missing one. I would be more handsome, heh?"

He took the tip and dragged down the flesh, spilling blood so it would dribble down his mouth. The path thus moved lower to his deep reddened lips, Erik stop mid-air, contemplating if he should slit them for tasting his living wife.

He did.

The cuts made weren't at all deep but enough to send pain shocks through Raoul's limbs. But he held his head high, staring defiantly at his torturer. The noble blood within dared not bow down to the ruthless demon before him. This held some amusement to Erik as he took the dagger up to be covered in de Chagny's blood and placed the blade into his mouth.

"Too rich for me," he grimaced from the taste and backed away from him. Erik stepped around Christine so Raoul could watch what he was doing. He winked at the lover and kissed the angel's forehead. "I promise, _ma Cherie, _it won't hurt for as long as you listen to Erik."

Christine thrashed her head to the side and kicked her legs at him. Her attempt was futile and Erik laughed. "You cannot hurt Erik. But, please, my love calm down! I don't want to hurt you."

Her form cowered as he clutched her white throat. His expression held no patience as too much time had passed already. He abandoned the knife to the floor as he put all of his power into strangling her with his bare hands.

"Christine!" Raoul screamed hoarsely. His unabashed eyes flooded with tears as her body's movement were starting to slow down. "No! Damn you to Hell! Goddamn you!"

He failed her. He failed her and Kanye. Raoul bitterly wept, his blood mixing with his tears. Why couldn't he save her? Why couldn't he save everyone? And to his realization, he had never told her how he loved her. Even if he were to say his feelings, Christine wouldn't hear. He had lost. He lost and Erik won.

"Raoul!" she called in a very weak and dry tone. Christine tried to fight but it was getting to be too much. Erik's fingers dug deeper and deeper. Dots were appearing before her eyes as she choked and wheezed; her body losing feeling all over.

With one last breathe, her eyes closed and didn't open.

Erik unraveled his hold, staring intently at her nonmoving form.

Raoul, as well, gaped at the woman, his unwanted fears and reality suffocating him. Gone. She was gone.

The Phantom hovered over her, his brow furrowed in confusion. All at once, her lids flew open.

"E-E-Erik!" she croaked, her hands rising up to embrace him. Erik, eagerly, unhitched the shackles around her delicate wrists. His illuminated orbs were glazed with love and happiness as he tenderly encased himself around her, then suddenly vanished, Christine's body landing hard on the stone.

Raoul had his eyes closed, not wishing to see her dead or Erik ravishing her. A breeze gently blew across his face and to his surprise, his chains were gone. Disbelieving, he rubbed his hands and gazed at the pinkish red color where the cuffs had him. _What the--?_

He looked up to see only Christine present with him. Erik was nowhere in sight.

Raoul scrambled over to her, clasping her hand. He found a weak pulse and let out a joyful whoop.

She was alive! She was alive!

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips, whispering, "I love you I love I love you."

There came a muffled cough and he looked down to see her struggle to open her beautiful eyes. A faint smile graced her crimson lips as he caressed her face.

Embracing her, not too tightly to cause her pain, Raoul murmured in her ear, "It's over."

TBC…


	20. Epilogue

A/N: THIS IS IT! Thank you to everyone, again, for reading this! And for the ending that all of you were waiting for! I will admit I was tearing a little bit and I hope you all like how it came to be. If not, then you try writing this four times!

I hope that since many of you like this, then you would also like my other suspenseful story, _A Deadly Obsession. _I also have the sequel to _Lessons on Love_ coming out soon so check that out if you're interested. And special thanks to my betas for helping me so much! Onto the epilogue!

**Epilogue**

Christine held onto to Raoul for dear life, his love proclamation repeating in her mind. _He loves me! He loves me! _

"I love you too," she whispered, wincing at how hoarse she sounded. Not the way she imagined her love declaration, but at least it was out. A tiny smile curved at her lips as Raoul's face lowered to kiss her. The kiss was languid and gentle, making her heart soar with the unspoken promise that was sent by the loving gesture. He pulled apart and held her closer.

Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, letting reality wash over her. Erik was trying to kill her, to free her soul and in the short couple of seconds, Christine was gone. There was a brief pause before she saw nothing but light and from the intense light was a voice. A gracious, soothing voice almost motherly encompassed her. Then before she knew it, she felt something separating and Raoul was urging her to wake.

It was over. It was all over.

Everything felt, as it should have been. She had Raoul and Erik was gone. But as the thought became clear, a pang went through her heart.

He was gone.

After every nightmare she endured, Erik was gone. For good.

But she couldn't bring herself to find the joy in it. She had plenty of reasons to. He was the one who stalked and terrorized her for years. But she couldn't find it in herself to relish in his defeat. In the end, he was a poor spirit whose Fate was unknown once again.

Silent tears leaked from her eyes. _Why?_

Raoul mistook her tears for relief and carefully scooped her up. He winced as his thigh throbbed, but he needed to get them safely out of here. Who knew how long it has been or if help was on its way? He didn't want to take the risk and stay if he had to.

As he lifted her, the waves of dizziness overwhelmed Christine and she fought to remain conscious. Hard as she tried, her weight plus his injuries and exhaustion took both and Raoul had reluctantly set her back down, moaning in the process.

"I'm going to see if there's another way out," Raoul told her. She nodded as he began wobbling around the house.

Christine held herself as a dreadful sense of loneliness swept over her and for the first time she actually _missed _Erik. To her annoyance, she wiped away the batch of salty tears and placed her hand on the cold stone.

A tiny object pressed into her skin and as she looked down, she was surprised to find the golden ring. The ring that Erik had worn on his finger that once had been her past life's. The ring that had remained in his possession all these years, waiting for her promise to be fulfilled. The ring that had symbolized his love and then in a reverse role—her love for Erik.

It stared up at her as she tried to conjured memories of the ring, but failed in doing so. Her mind was blank as to when Christine Daae first received the token of Erik's love. She wasn't sure if she could count that as a blessing or not, but she couldn't leave it there.

Scanning around for any sight of Raoul and not seeing him, Christine picked up the ring and gazed as it lied on her palm. The metal was cool, not warm after a century of being attached to its owner. Though, the feel of it was enough to bring forth memories of her encounters with Erik.

_Funny_, she mused. _This whole thing was started with this ring and a promise sealed with a kiss. _

The longer she looked at it, the more she was beginning to see the light. She did love Erik that was no lie. But not in the way he would have wanted or her to give. And there was something about the ideal of the ring that made her realize in a way she continuously believed--

"A promise should always be kept and it did," she murmured, gazing with newfound sincerity for Erik's actions. The promise was kept.

She knew in her heart she couldn't hate the man or the ghost. But she truly hoped he was able to find redemption, even though she couldn't be with him. Mercy was always given to those in dire need and Erik was one soul who deserved mercy the most.

Sighing, Christine slipped the ring on her right finger. It was the least she could do, she thought, in his memory.

She heard footsteps rushing and the brunette lifted her head up to see elation written over Raoul's face.

Before she could ask what was happening-- Adele, Meg, and a whole band of officers followed after. Raoul was directing the officers to a hidden room, the one where Erik had taken Raoul out. The joy he once had was replaced with a somber look as he limped over to the stone door.

Almost immediately, Meg hugged Christine, tears seeping from her blue eyes. "Thank God you're all right! I was so scared…"

Christine gently smiled and returned the hug. "It's okay. I'm fine. We're fine."

Adele had her turn in hugging the soprano as soon as Meg stepped aside. The older woman's eyes were glistening with tears too.

"Praise the Lord that you and M. de Chagny are alive, but where is Detective Kanye?"

Christine frowned. "Detective Kanye? He came too with Raoul…?" _The Daroga. Oh my God… was he referring to Kanye?_

Adele's visage fell. "I suppose not everyone was fortunate enough to escape his fury."

Christine felt more tears coming and tried to blink them back. "He was going to help Raoul rescue me. Oh Adele…"

The ballet mistress tenderly wiped the tears from the American's face. "Don't cry, my dear. He did his duty as an officer of the law. And he will be remembered for that."

Christine nodded, though that didn't make her feel any better. _If only Erik hadn't… _She mentally shook her head. _No. Don't think of him. It wasn't his fault. Nor mine. Adele is right. She's right._

"So where is Erik?" Meg questioned, breaking her from her reverie.

Christine sighed sadly and gazed down at her ring finger, the gleaming gold glittering back.

"To a better place, I hope."

xxXXxx

**Six Months Later**

Detective Nasir Kanye was given a proper burial and memorial once his body was recovered. Unfortunately, his widow had to decide on a closed casket. Raoul, Christine, Adele, and Meg were all there for the funeral as the brave officer was laid to rest.

Raoul felt completely guilty for his death and blamed himself, despite Sasha Kanye's assurances that her husband wouldn't have any of it.

"He died doing what he loved most," she said with an endearing reflective look. "Serving justice and protecting everyone around him. He would be pleased to know he was able to do some part in recovering your lady friend."

Christine still felt she was indebted to the man who had truly risked his life for her. If only the events had occurred differently, like they had done years ago when the similar actions took place underneath the opera house and the promise was bestowed. They all had survived everyone that is until poor Erik ended his life.

But, as Adele Garrison pointed out, "You cannot undo the past, no matter how much you would like to. Detective Kanye's death was a horrible tragedy but good usually has a way of coming from the bad."

And it had.

Christine never experienced anymore past visions. They were finally over. _For good_.

She had an establishing career in the opera world as the l'Garnier's leading lady and she had good friends and a terrific boyfriend.

What more could she asked for?

Yet, she found herself constantly reminiscing about Erik.

Christine was thrilled she no longer had to worry over any potential threats, but she felt like a piece of her soul was missing. And it was the part that longed for Erik.

She truly wished she could have helped him; alas there was literally nothing she could have done. Erik was difficult to sway and she found herself missing his voice and his ever-expressive eyes. His face didn't frighten her no more and she often dreamt of him each ending with him being ripped from her embrace.

Yes, she had Raoul but a part will always mourn for her past love. And her beau understood without being told. Even though no words were needed to explain, they knew they couldn't condemn Erik. He wasn't at fault for his anger towards Raoul. In his justified mind, Raoul was the enemy—the enemy, yes, but redeemed.

Christine would never forget that night when she and Raoul were in the hospital after leaving the theatre. Thankfully, the wounds weren't too serious but the internal wounds were.

He was so ashamed of himself… of what his past life had done to her. Raoul was near tears as he confessed all that he saw while under Erik's influence. It was no wonder why he came to hate his great-great grandfather so much. It had been him.

She held him as he cried on her shoulder, sobbing how sorry he was. She knew he expected her to perhaps hate him, maybe even turn away after all that's past. But she couldn't and she didn't want to.

Even though the past Raoul de Chagny was despicable that didn't mean the present one was too. Christine knew in her heart he would never do anything to intentionally harm her. She had come to terms with that a while back and only he had to do the same. They both were given a second chance, more so Raoul than anyone. And that night's painful lesson would forever stay with him, making sure nothing like before would ever happen again.

There would be no more pain. Not after what they witnessed within Erik. His torment was enough punishment to remain with them, reminding them how fortunate they were to have one another.

If only the same could be hold true for Erik.

xxXXxx

A week ago Raoul proposed and Christine gladly accepted.

Gazing longingly at the diamond on her finger as well as Erik's ring, Christine leaned against her husband-to-be as they strolled along the _Jardins de Tuileries_. The sun was shining brightly, the flowers were all in bloom and there were no worries of upending doom.

_This is peace,_ she thought languidly.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She smiled. "You know better my thoughts are worth more than that de Chagny," she teased good-naturedly. Tilting her head up, she closed her eyes as the warm rays danced on her skin. "I'm thinking how beautiful everything it is and how lucky I am to have you in my life."

"And I you," Raoul said softly, kissing her hand.

"I still wished that things turned out differently for him." Her chocolate brown eyes became sad, her thoughts once more returning to poor Erik.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Me too. But unfortunately life isn't a fairy tale where everyone has a happy ending."

"Yeah." She sighed. "But he didn't deserve it. After all those years of waiting all he wanted was the only woman he could ever love to love him back. I wished I could—"

"You _do _love him in your own way," Raoul whispered. "And the same for Christine Daae. It doesn't bother me anymore if it worries you. It's hard to let go of the strong bond you had with each other. I won't argue about that seeing how it led to this for so long."

Christine cocked her head at him and grinned. "Have I ever told you you're the greatest man ever?"

He smirked. "No but please do."

Christine giggled. "You are. You are."

They continued to walk hand-in-hand; watching teenage couples and elder loves tenderly embracing one another. _If they only knew how precious it is to love someone the way they love you_, Christine thought.

She pulled Raoul tighter to her, letting her mind wander over the past events. What would life be like if Erik had truly killed her to regain their love? At the time it terrified her, but now she wasn't afraid anymore. Death was as natural as birth. It's always there as part of the "circle of life".

She smiled softly to herself.

He did this to her. He helped make the idea of death less frightening than what it was. If she were to meet her Maker, Christine would have no fear for what will await her. All thanks to--

Her train of thought was broken when she heard laughter.

Beautiful, childlike almost with no hints of tragic loss-- light as a feather and pure quality.

The melodious laugh was soon joined by a much deeper, sonorous laugh so full of unrequited joy.

Christine stopped suddenly and turned to look behind her shoulder.

Standing amidst the roses was a man and woman.

The woman's long golden tresses blew in the easy breeze, her awestruck blue eyes filled with adoration and love. Her complexion was white and flawless, enhancing her beauty and charm.

She stopped giggling to look at Christine. A smile played on her rosy lips as she waved to her, the immaculate pristine gown shimmering from the sun.

The man, who had his back to her, now turned and smiled once their eyes met. He was incredibly handsome with his hair black as ink and the irises of innocent amber glowing. The years of neglect and abuse didn't wear him down as he stood straight and tall with all of the pride in the world on his shoulders. No sadness or fury could be found on his countenance, only gaiety.

His face was twisted so horribly but that didn't destroy the image of divine beauty surrounding the ethereal couple.

Smiling happily, Christine waved back to them.

The pair laughed once more and held hands as they danced in time of the wind until they slowly disappeared.

_Then again, I guess the fairy tale ending does come true to some._

"Christine?" Raoul interrupted.

The brunette glanced up to him who shook his head. "Who were you waving to?"

She smirked as she answered, "Would you believe if I said it was angels?"

He chuckled. "I'd believe you all right."

"Good because that's what I saw."

Christine looked back to where Erik and Christine were, her smile never leaving her face.

"And they were the two happiest angels in all of Heaven."

The End


End file.
